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Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Finer
Scenery
Fine
Nature
Human
Humans

More quotes by John Keats

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Let us away, my love, with happy speed There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see, - Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead. Awake! arise! my love and fearless be, For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.
John Keats
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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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All writing is a form of prayer.
John Keats
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The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.
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Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?
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That queen of secrecy, the violet.
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Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
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All my clear-eyed fish, Golden, or rainbow-sided, or purplish, Vermilion-tail'd, or finn'd with silvery gauze... My charming rod, my potent river spells.
John Keats
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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
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Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
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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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Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
John Keats
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I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion-- I have shuddered at it, I shudder no more. I could be martyred for my religion. Love is my religion and I could die for that. I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.
John Keats
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Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering?
John Keats
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My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.
John Keats
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A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power 'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.
John Keats