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O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Minstrel
Minstrels
Gentleness
Planning
Romance
Simple
Song
More quotes by John Keats
Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
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The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
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That which is creative must create itself.
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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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Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
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Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
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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.
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You are always new to me.
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...I leaped headlong into the Sea, and thereby have become more acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice.
John Keats
Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop From low hung branches little space they stop But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek Then off at once, as in a wanton freak: Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.
John Keats
I should write for the mere yearning and fondness I have for the beautiful, even if my night's labors should be burnt every morning and no eye shine upon them.
John Keats
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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Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
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I will give you a definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom one filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.
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O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,-- Nature's observatory--whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
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There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
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I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.
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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
Some say the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul-making.
John Keats
Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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