Quote

Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Thing
Subject
Subjects
Poetry
Literature
Doe
Unobtrusive
Soul
Startle
Great
Amaze
Writing
Enters

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How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they
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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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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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That which is creative must create itself.
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A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest the last smile the brightest the last movement the gracefullest.
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,-- Nature's observatory--whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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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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Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.
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When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
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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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Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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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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Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
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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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We must repeat the often repeated saying, that it is unworthy a religious man to view an irreligious one either with alarm or aversion, or with any other feeling than regret and hope and brotherly commiseration.
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