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A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.

John Keats

Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain Clings cruelly to us.
JOHN KEATS

Cruelty Happiness Pain Pleasure Visit
But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
JOHN KEATS

Gratitude Kiss Rose Run Wind
I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.
JOHN KEATS

Believe I Love You Myself
Its better to lose your ego to the One you Love than to lose the One you Love to your Ego
JOHN KEATS

Ego Lose Love Yourself
As the Swiss inscription says: “Speech is silvern, Silence is golden;” or, as I might rather express it, Speech is of Time, Silence is of Eternity.
JOHN KEATS

Expression Forever Gold Myself Silence Talk Time
I wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. Every hour I am more and more concentrated in you; everything else tastes like chaff in my mouth.
JOHN KEATS

Focus Happiness Invention Myself Taste Yourself
A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
JOHN KEATS

Beautiful Forever Joy One Liner
I want a brighter word than bright.
JOHN KEATS

Bright Myself Word
How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they.
JOHN KEATS

Man Poet Power Talk
Life is but a day; A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way From a tree’s summit.
JOHN KEATS

Fragile Life Tree Way
Shed no tear – O, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more – O, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root’s white core.
JOHN KEATS

Cry Flower Sleep Tears Young
And when thou art weary I’ll find thee a bed, Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.
JOHN KEATS

Art Bed Flower Head Myself
I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.
JOHN KEATS

Beautiful Love Principle
Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host’s Canary wine?
JOHN KEATS

Choice Death Drink Happiness Poet Soul Wine
If poetry does not come as naturally as leaves to a tree, then it better not come at all.
JOHN KEATS

Leaving Natural Poetry Tree
Of love, that fairest joys give most unrest.
JOHN KEATS

Fair Joy Love Rest

A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.

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A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.

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Popular Authors

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