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It ought to come like the leaves to the trees, or it better not come at all.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Ought
Tree
Better
Come
Like
Trees
Leaves

More quotes by John Keats

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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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It can be said of him, when he departed he took a Man's life with him. No sounder piece of British manhood was put together in that eighteenth century of Time.
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Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.
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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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A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.
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It is a flaw In happiness to see beyond our bourn, - It forces us in summer skies to mourn, It spoils the singing of the nightingale.
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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.
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I will clamber through the clouds and exist.
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Faded the flower and all its budded charms,Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!Vanishd unseasonably
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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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Four seasons fill the measure of the year there are four seasons in the minds of men.
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Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
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Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine - how good how fine. It went down all pulpy, slushy, oozy, all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large, beatified Strawberry.
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish.
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Load every rift with ore.
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
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The world is too brutal for me-I am glad there is such a thing as the grave-I am sure I shall never have any rest till I get there.
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