Quote

No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures Than I began to think of rhymes and measures: The air that floated by me seem'd to say 'Write! thou wilt never have a better day.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Seems
Pleasures
Better
Sooner
Writing
Began
Never
Thou
Floated
Think
Air
Rhymes
Thinking
Seem
Wilt
Pleasure
Measures
Write
Rhyme

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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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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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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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Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers.
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My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
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A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
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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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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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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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What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.
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No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
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Let us away, my love, with happy speed There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see, - Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead. Awake! arise! my love and fearless be, For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.
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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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Dry your eyes O dry your eyes, For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies.
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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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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
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All writing is a form of prayer.
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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
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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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