Quotes About John Keats

The poet John Keats noted that whereas great authors are 'capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason', the rest of us are 'incapable of remaining content with half-knowledge'.39

was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?

It's been such a deep and amazing journey for me, getting close to John Keats, and also I love Shelley and Byron. I mean, the thing about the Romantic poets is that they've got the epitaph of romantic posthumously. They all died really young, and Keats, the youngest of them all.

For to bear all naked truths,And to envisage circumstance, all calm,That is the top of sovereignty.

Love in a hut, with water and a crust,Is—Love, forgive us!—cinders, ashes, dust.

And can I ever bid these joys farewell?Yes, I must pass them for a nobler life,Where I may find the agonies, the strifeOf human hearts.

O fret not after knowledge -- I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge -- I have none, and yet the Evening listens.

I equally dislike the favor of the public with the love of a woman - they are both a cloying treacle to the wings of independence.

It's been such a deep and amazing journey for me, getting close to John Keats, and also I love Shelley and Byron. I mean, the thing about the Romantic poets is that they've got the epitaph of romantic posthumously. They all died really young, and Keats, the youngest of them all.

I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!

I equally dislike the favor of the public with the love of a woman -- they are both a cloying treacle to the wings of independence

Alas! thou this wilt never do: Thou art an enchantress too, And wilt surely never spill Blood of those whose eyes can kill.

I feel confident I should have been a rebel Angel had the opportunity been mine.

Easy was the task: A thousand handicraftsmen wore the mask Of Poesy. Ill-fated, impious race!

yet I must not forget Sleep, quiet with his poppy coronet: For what there may be worthy in these rhymes I partly owe to him:

How could I sleight you? How threaten to leave you? not in the spirit of a Threat to you -- no -- but in the spirit of Wretchedness in myself.

My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.

Pale wox I, and in vapours hid my face. Art thou, too, near such doom? vague

miserable—We can see horribly clear, in the works of such a Man his whole life, as if we were God's spies.—What

How light Must dreams themselves be; seeing they're more slight Than the mere nothing that engenders them!