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A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence because he has no identity he is continually informing and filling some other body.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Continually
Identity
Poet
Poetry
Existence
Literature
Anything
Informing
Body
Filling

More quotes by John Keats

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A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
John Keats
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Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.
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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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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers.
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was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?
John Keats
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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
John Keats
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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.
John Keats
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Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green there is a budding morrow in midnight there is triple sight in blindness keen.
John Keats
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No, no, I'm sure, My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully, espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
John Keats
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Why employ intelligent and highly paid ambassadors and then go and do their work for them? You don't buy a canary and sing yourself.
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There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
John Keats
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The uttered part of a man's life, let us always repeat, bears to the unuttered, unconscious part a small unknown proportion. He himself never knows it, much less do others.
John Keats
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It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
John Keats
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Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite.
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Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.
John Keats
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
John Keats
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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
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Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close.
John Keats