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Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.

John Keats

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
Now a soft kiss – Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
JOHN KEATS

Bliss End Kiss Soft Vow
I want a brighter word than bright.
JOHN KEATS

Bright Myself Word
A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
JOHN KEATS

Man Soul World
The excellence of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate, from their being in close relationship with beauty and truth.
JOHN KEATS

Art Beautiful Excellence Intense Relationship Truth
We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.
JOHN KEATS

Feeling Full Poet Reading Writing
Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
JOHN KEATS

Failure Inspirational Motivational Perspective Success
I have an habitual feeling of my real life having past, and that I am leading a posthumous existence.
JOHN KEATS

Existence Feeling Habit Leadership Myself Reality
But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
JOHN KEATS

Gratitude Kiss Rose Run Wind
Love is my religion – I could die for it.
JOHN KEATS

Death Love Myself Religion
Some say the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul-making.
JOHN KEATS

Myself Place Soul Tears World
Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
JOHN KEATS

Book French Fruit Music Play
Stop and consider! life is but a day
JOHN KEATS

Day Life Stop
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
Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close.
JOHN KEATS

Leaving Rose Togetherness
That which is creative must create itself.
JOHN KEATS

Creation Creativity Deep One Liner Wisdom

Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.

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Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.

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