Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity.
JOHN KEATSI 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.
More John Keats Quotes
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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
JOHN KEATS -
Stop and consider! life is but a day
JOHN KEATS -
We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.
JOHN KEATS -
Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
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 -
With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.
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 -
Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.
JOHN KEATS -
The poetry of earth is never dead When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide I cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.
JOHN KEATS -
Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
JOHN KEATS -
I have so much of you in my heart.
JOHN KEATS -
When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.
JOHN KEATS -
The only means of strengthening one’s intellect is to make up one’s mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.
JOHN KEATS -
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art– Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite.
JOHN KEATS -
Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.
JOHN KEATS