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So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, Sweet Hope! celestial influence round me shed Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Spirit
Round
Rounds
Pinions
Sweet
Shroud
Thoughts
Shrouds
Influence
Waving
Head
Celestial
Dark
Shed
Hope
Silver
More quotes by John Keats
Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.
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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine - Unweave a rainbow.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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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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I don't need the stars in the night I found my treasure All I need is you by my side so shine forever
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There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
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Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.
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My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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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 will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.
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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the Imagination – What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not – for I have the same Idea of all our Passions as of Love they are all in their sublime, creative of essential Beauty . . .
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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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My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.
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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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I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
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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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I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
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