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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
Men
Fill
Time
Measure
Seasons
Minds
Four
Year
Mind
Years

More quotes by John Keats

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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 excellence of every Art is its intensity.
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How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they
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Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.
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The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
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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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Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.
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it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously - I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.
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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
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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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When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
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O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.
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The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.
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The poetry of the earth is never dead.
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I find I cannot exist without Poetry
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O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
John Keats
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I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
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My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.
John Keats