A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
JOHN KEATSFailure is in a sense the highway to success, as each discovery of what is false leads us to seek earnestly after what is true.
More John Keats Quotes
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I must choose between despair and Energy – I choose the latter.
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The air is all softness.
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One of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind’s imagining into another
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Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain Clings cruelly to us.
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I have so much of you in my heart.
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Health is the greatest of blessings – with health and hope we should be content to live.
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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
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Even bees, the little almsmen of spring bowers, know there is richest juice in poison-flowers.
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I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.
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Its better to lose your ego to the One you Love than to lose the One you Love to your Ego
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We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.
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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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All writing is a form of prayer.
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Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing, But divine melodious truth.
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Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
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Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings?
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She press’d his hand in slumber; so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
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Beauty is truth, truth beauty.
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That which is creative must create itself.
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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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There is nothing stable in the world; uproar’s your only music.
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Touch has a memory. O say, love say, What can I do to kill it and be free In my old liberty?
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Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?
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What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.
JOHN KEATS