Quote

I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Literature
Loveliness
Hours
Luxury
Death
Minute
Two
Possession
Hour
Walking
Minutes
Brood
Walks
Luxuries

More quotes by John Keats

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The poetry of the earth is never dead.
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...I leaped headlong into the Sea, and thereby have become more acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice.
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You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.
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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.
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I do think better of womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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I am convinced more and more day by day that fine writing is next to fine doing, the top thing in the world.
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Works of genius are the first things in the world.
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A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
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Blessed is the healthy nature it is the coherent, sweetly co-operative, not incoherent, self-distracting, self-destructive one!
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Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
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A man's life of any worth is a continual allegory, and very few eyes can see the mystery of his life, a life like the scriptures, figurative.
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She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around.
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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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Some say the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul-making.
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was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?
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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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A long poem is a test of invention which I take to be the Polar star of poetry, as fancy is the sails, and imagination the rudder.
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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