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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
Gods
Pass
Dreams
Pleasure
Dream
Real
Smoothly
Long
Pleasures
Immortal

More quotes by John Keats

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The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.
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As the Swiss inscription says: Sprechen ist silbern, Schweigen ist golden,- Speech is silvern, Silence is golden or, as I might rather express it, Speech is of Time, Silence is of Eternity.
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When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.
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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green there is a budding morrow in midnight there is triple sight in blindness keen.
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A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
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I will give you a definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom one filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.
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Load every rift with ore.
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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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... Who alive can say 'Thou art no Poet - mayst not tell thy dreams'? Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved, And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.
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I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!
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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 Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.
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I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.
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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers.
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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the Imagination – What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not – for I have the same Idea of all our Passions as of Love they are all in their sublime, creative of essential Beauty . . .
John Keats