Quotes from John Keats

There is a budding morrow in midnight.

Though the most beautiful creature were waiting for me at the end of a journey or a walk; though the carpet were of silk, the curtains of the morning clouds; the chairs and sofa stuffed with cygnet's down; the food manna, the wine beyond claret, the window opening on Winander Mere, I should not feel --or rather my happiness would not be so fine, as my solitude is sublime.

Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright, And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen For what listen they?

What the imagination seizes as beauty must be the truth.

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter

Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?

Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.

The poetry of the earth is never dead.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever.

Touch has a memory.

Nothing ever becomes real 'til it is experienced.

I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion-- I have shuddered at it, I shudder no more. I could be martyred for my religion. Love is my religion and I could die for that. I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.

I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination.

I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.

Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know

Tis "the witching time of night", / Orbed is the moon and bright, / And the stars they glisten, glisten, / Seeming with bright eyes to listen —

Life is but a day; A fragile dew-drop on its perilous way From a tree's summit.

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on.

I have good reason to be content, for thank God I can read and perhaps understand Shakespeare to his depths.

I want a brighter word than bright

You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest.

My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!

I have so much of you in my heart.