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
Thinking
Seem
Wilt
Pleasure
Measures
Write
Rhyme
Seems
Pleasures
Better
Sooner
Writing
Began
Never
Thou
Floated
Think
Air
Rhymes

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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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To feel forever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon in death.
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And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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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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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 wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. Every hour I am more and more concentrated in you everything else tastes like chaff in my mouth.
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That which is creative must create itself.
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A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
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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.
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Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
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'Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright. And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen- For what listen they?
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A long poem is a test of invention which I take to be the Polar star of poetry, as fancy is the sails, and imagination the rudder.
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I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave--thank God for the quiet grave--O! I can feel the cold earth upon me--the daisies growing over me--O for this quiet--it will be my first.
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The opinion I have of the generality of women--who appear to me as children to whom I would rather give a sugar plum than my time, forms a barrier against matrimony which I rejoice in.
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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
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Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.
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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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Time, that aged nurse, Rocked me to patience.
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