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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Clip
Wings
Angel
Philosophy
Literature

More quotes by John Keats

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Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
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There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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To one who has been long in city pent, ’Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
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Four seasons fill the measure of the year there are four seasons in the minds of men.
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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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I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.
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I came to feel how far above All fancy, pride, and fickle maidenhood, All earthly pleasure, all imagined good, Was the warm tremble of a devout kiss.
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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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An extensive knowledge is needful to thinking people-it takes away the heat and fever and helps, by widening speculation, to ease the burden of the mystery.
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That which is creative must create itself.
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Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them thou has thy music too.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave--thank God for the quiet grave--O! I can feel the cold earth upon me--the daisies growing over me--O for this quiet--it will be my first.
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Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host's Canary wine?
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There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
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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.
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Dry your eyes O dry your eyes, For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies.
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No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures Than I began to think of rhymes and measures: The air that floated by me seem'd to say 'Write! thou wilt never have a better day.
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A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.
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Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.
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