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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
Tree
Better
Come
Like
Trees
Leaves
Ought

More quotes by John Keats

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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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Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them thou has thy music too.
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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
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No, no, I'm sure, My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully, espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
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To bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty
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Call the world if you please the vale of soul-making. Then you will find out the use of the world.
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You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.
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Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
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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.
John Keats
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It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
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Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite.
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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...I leaped headlong into the Sea, and thereby have become more acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice.
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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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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.
John Keats
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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.
John Keats
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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.
John Keats
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If I should die, I have left no immortal work behind me — nothing to make my friends proud of my memory — but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered.
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