black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.

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

Heart Love Myself Nature Relationship Togetherness Yourself
Now a soft kiss – Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
JOHN KEATS

Bliss End Kiss Soft Vow
Where soil is, men grow, Whether to weeds or flowers.
JOHN KEATS

Flower Growth Land Man
Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
JOHN KEATS

Failure Inspirational Motivational Perspective Success
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity.
JOHN KEATS

Forever Silence Thinking
The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
JOHN KEATS

Day End Sweet
Stop and consider! life is but a day
JOHN KEATS

Day Life Stop
Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
JOHN KEATS

Flower Leaving Ourselves Passion
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

Earth Nature Ourselves Play Sea Sky
But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
JOHN KEATS

Gratitude Kiss Rose Run Wind
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

Knowledge Mystery Need People Thinking
Life is but a day; A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way From a tree’s summit.
JOHN KEATS

Fragile Life Tree Way
What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.
JOHN KEATS

Philosophy Poet Virtue
Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not.
JOHN KEATS

Beautiful Existence Imagination Truth
Of love, that fairest joys give most unrest.
JOHN KEATS

Fair Joy Love Rest
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

Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.

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Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.

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