Quote

Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Almost
Appear
Literature
Surprise
Inspirational
Poet
Wording
Reader
Singularity
Highest
Remembrance
Poetry
Strike
Thoughts
Excess
Fine
Strikes

More quotes by John Keats

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O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
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I don't need the stars in the night I found my treasure All I need is you by my side so shine forever
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Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.... I never felt my mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment- upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of window: you always concentrate my whole senses
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He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
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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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The poetry of the earth is never dead.
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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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I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.
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It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
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The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
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My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.
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I myself am pursuing the same instinctive course as the veriest human animal you can think of I am, however young, writing at random straining at particles of light in the midst of a great darkness without knowing the bearing of any one assertion, of any one opinion. Yet may I not in this be free from sin?
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To feel forever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon in death.
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I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.
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Works of genius are the first things in the world.
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Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close.
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Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
John Keats