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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
Purpose
Nothing
Ripening
Great
Finer
Gradual
Purposes
Productions
Powers
Intellectual

More quotes by John Keats

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Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
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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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--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
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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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I have good reason to be content, for thank God I can read and perhaps understand Shakespeare to his depths.
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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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You speak of Lord Byron and me there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.
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But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the sky with silver glitterings!
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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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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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Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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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.
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There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
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The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.
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To one who has been long in city pent, ’Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
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