Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o’er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.
JOHN KEATSThe creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
More John Keats Quotes
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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 -
A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.
JOHN KEATS -
She press’d his hand in slumber; so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
JOHN KEATS -
An extensive knowledge is needful to thinking people-it takes away the heat and fever; and helps, by widening speculation, to ease the burden of the mystery.
JOHN KEATS -
I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer days – three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
JOHN KEATS -
Touch has a memory. O say, love say, What can I do to kill it and be free In my old liberty?
JOHN KEATS -
You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest.
JOHN KEATS -
We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.
JOHN KEATS -
The poetry of earth is never dead When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide I cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.
JOHN KEATS -
A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
JOHN KEATS -
O aching time! O moments big as years!
JOHN KEATS -
The feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steel it.
JOHN KEATS -
There is an old saying “well begun is half done”-’tis a bad one. I would use instead-Not begun at all ’til half done.
JOHN KEATS -
Failure is in a sense the highway to success, as each discovery of what is false leads us to seek earnestly after what is true.
JOHN KEATS -
I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating; but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!
JOHN KEATS






