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Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Think
Originality
Thinking
Customs
Originals
Original
Minds
Away
Many
Mind
Custom
More quotes by 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.
John Keats
But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the sky with silver glitterings!
John Keats
Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.
John Keats
O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
John Keats
I am convinced more and more day by day that fine writing is next to fine doing, the top thing in the world.
John Keats
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering?
John Keats
Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
John Keats
Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.
John Keats
Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
John Keats
Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
John Keats
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
Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?
John Keats
How sad it is when a luxurious imagination is obliged in self defense to deaden its delicacy in vulgarity, and riot in things attainable that it may not have leisure to go mad after things that are not.
John Keats
Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
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I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.
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Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
John Keats
You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.
John Keats
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
John Keats
In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
John Keats
... Who alive can say 'Thou art no Poet - mayst not tell thy dreams'? Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved, And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.
John Keats