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Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Great
Finer
Gradual
Purposes
Productions
Powers
Intellectual
Purpose
Nothing
Ripening

More quotes by John Keats

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And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.
John Keats
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The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted: thence proceeds mawkishness.
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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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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 . . .
John Keats
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Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not
John Keats
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But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the sky with silver glitterings!
John Keats
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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!
John Keats
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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.
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I have met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel.
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Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
John Keats
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
John Keats
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The uttered part of a man's life, let us always repeat, bears to the unuttered, unconscious part a small unknown proportion. He himself never knows it, much less do others.
John Keats
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That which is creative must create itself.
John Keats
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
John Keats
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
John Keats
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Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
John Keats
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
John Keats
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So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries, She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf, Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
John Keats