Quote

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.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Nature
Sweet
Firmament
Look
Cities
Breathing
Full
Fairs
Looks
Prayer
Breathe
Long
Open
Fair
Men
Face
Smile
Heaven
Blue
Faces
City
Pent

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Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.
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There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish.
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Faded the flower and all its budded charms,Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!Vanishd unseasonably
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
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It appears to me that almost any man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy citadel.
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A long poem is a test of invention which I take to be the Polar star of poetry, as fancy is the sails, and imagination the rudder.
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Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.
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I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion-- I have shuddered at it, I shudder no more. I could be martyred for my religion. Love is my religion and I could die for that. I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.
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'Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright. And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen- For what listen they?
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I do think better of womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not.
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Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
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The excellence of every Art is its intensity.
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Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
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And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.
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My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
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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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Works of genius are the first things in the world.
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