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Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Dreams
Pleasure
Dream
Real
Smoothly
Long
Pleasures
Immortal
Gods
Pass

More quotes by John Keats

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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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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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And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in!
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Shed no tear - O, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more - O, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
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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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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
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Why employ intelligent and highly paid ambassadors and then go and do their work for them? You don't buy a canary and sing yourself.
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
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To stay youthful, stay useful.
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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How sad it is when a luxurious imagination is obliged in self defense to deaden its delicacy in vulgarity, and riot in things attainable that it may not have leisure to go mad after things that are not.
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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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Darkling I listen and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a muse' d rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!
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I would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
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No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.
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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.
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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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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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