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 KEATSGive me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
More John Keats Quotes
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I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank love—but if you should deny me the thousand and first—‘t would put me to the proof how great a misery I could live through.
JOHN KEATS -
Where soil is, men grow, Whether to weeds or flowers.
JOHN KEATS -
Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.
JOHN KEATS -
The open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown – the Air is our robe of state – the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.
JOHN KEATS -
I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.
JOHN KEATS -
She press’d his hand in slumber; so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
JOHN KEATS -
With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.
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 -
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 -
My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.
JOHN KEATS -
Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
JOHN KEATS -
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 -
Scenery is fine – but human nature is finer.
JOHN KEATS -
To silence gossip, don’t repeat it.
JOHN KEATS -
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?
JOHN KEATS