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The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Purpose
Eye
Creature
Bright
Creatures
Eyes

More quotes by John Keats

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The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.
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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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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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I have good reason to be content, for thank God I can read and perhaps understand Shakespeare to his depths.
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With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.
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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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It appears to me that almost any man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy citadel.
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
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...yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From out dark spirits.
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Stop and consider! life is but a day
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... the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown - the Air is our robe of state - the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.
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The excellence of every Art is its intensity.
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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.
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The poetry of earth is never dead When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide I cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.
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Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works.
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Knowledge enormous makes a God of me. Names, deeds, gray legends, dire events, rebellions, Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, Creations and destroyings, all at once Pour into the wide hollows of my brain, And deify me, as if some blithe wine Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk, And so become immortal.
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Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
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A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
John Keats
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The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.
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