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Call the world if you please the vale of soul-making. Then you will find out the use of the world.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Vale
Please
Call
Making
Use
Soul
Find
World

More quotes by John Keats

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He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
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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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Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close.
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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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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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I find I cannot exist without Poetry
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I would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
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The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.
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O let me lead her gently o'er the brook, Watch her half-smiling lips and downward look O let me for one moment touch her wrist Let me one moment to her breathing list And as she leaves me, may she often turn Her fair eyes looking through her locks auburne.
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No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.
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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.
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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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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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I have met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel.
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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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Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
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Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host's Canary wine?
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The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.
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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.
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Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.
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