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Four seasons fill the measure of the year there are four seasons in the minds of men.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Years
Men
Fill
Time
Measure
Seasons
Minds
Four
Year
Mind

More quotes by John Keats

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Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
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Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
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I will clamber through the clouds and exist.
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I find I cannot exist without Poetry
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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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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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There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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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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To bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty
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Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
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No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.
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Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
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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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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works.
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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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I have good reason to be content, for thank God I can read and perhaps understand Shakespeare to his depths.
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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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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
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