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John Keats quotes - page 3
I have nothing to speak of but my self-and what can I say but what I feel.
John Keats
I am certain I have not a right feeling towards women - at this moment I am striving to be just to them, but I cannot. Is it because they fall so far beneath my boyish imagination? When I was a schoolboy I thought a fair woman a pure Goddess; my mind was a soft nest in which some one of them slept, though she knew it not.
John Keats
I stood tip-toe upon a little hill, The air was cooling, and so very still, That the sweet buds which with a modest pride Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside, Their scantly leaved, and finely tapering stems, Had not yet lost those starry diadems Caught from the early sobbing of the morn.
John Keats
Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain Clings cruelly to us.
John Keats
My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully, espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
John Keats
I will give you a definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom one filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.
John Keats
Asleep in lap of legends old.
John Keats
I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.
John Keats
In drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
John Keats
To bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty.
John Keats
The excellence of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate, from their being in close relationship with beauty and truth.
John Keats
Of love, that fairest joys give most unrest.
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
A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
John Keats
When the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hill in an April shroud; Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose.
John Keats
This living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb, So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood, So in my veins red life might stream again, And thou be conscience-calm'd. See, here it is-- I hold it towards you.
John Keats
Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop From low hung branches; little space they stop; But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek; Then off at once, as in a wanton freak: Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.
John Keats
The imagination may be compared to Adam's dream-he awoke and found it truth.
John Keats
Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
John Keats
And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in!
John Keats
O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
John Keats
So let me be thy choir, and make a moan Upon the midnight hours.
John Keats
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