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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine - Unweave a rainbow.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Philosophy
Angel
Clip
Lines
Rule
Haunted
Mines
Texture
Mine
Mysteries
Air
Rainbow
Empty
Conquer
Mystery
Philosopher
Line
Wings

More quotes by John Keats

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Knowledge enormous makes a God of me. Names, deeds, gray legends, dire events, rebellions, Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, Creations and destroyings, all at once Pour into the wide hollows of my brain, And deify me, as if some blithe wine Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk, And so become immortal.
John Keats
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All writing is a form of prayer.
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The world is too brutal for me-I am glad there is such a thing as the grave-I am sure I shall never have any rest till I get there.
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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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When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain.
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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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My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
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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!
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
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Blessed is the healthy nature it is the coherent, sweetly co-operative, not incoherent, self-distracting, self-destructive one!
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I would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
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I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave--thank God for the quiet grave--O! I can feel the cold earth upon me--the daisies growing over me--O for this quiet--it will be my first.
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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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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest the last smile the brightest the last movement the gracefullest.
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The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
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I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
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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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