If something is not beautiful, it is probably not true.
JOHN KEATSTis 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?
More John Keats Quotes
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Health is the greatest of blessings – with health and hope we should be content to live.
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Love is my religion – I could die for it.
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Wherein lies happiness? In that which becks Our ready minds to fellowship divine, A fellowship with essence; till we shine, Full alchemiz’d, and free of space. Behold The clear religion of heaven!
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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart’s affections, and the truth of imagination.
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Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close.
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You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.
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I have an habitual feeling of my real life having past, and that I am leading a posthumous existence.
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The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
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Is there another Life? Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There must be we cannot be created for this sort of suffering.
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Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.
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If poetry does not come as naturally as leaves to a tree, then it better not come at all.
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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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And how they kist each other’s tremulous eyes.
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Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings?
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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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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.
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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Scenery is fine – but human nature is finer.
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We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.
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Many have original minds who do not think it – they are led away by custom!
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Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity.
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Death is Life’s high meed.
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Life is but a day; A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way From a tree’s summit.
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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?
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Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
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Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
JOHN KEATS