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Works of genius are the first things in 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
Genius
Firsts
First
Things
World
Works

More quotes by John Keats

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Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
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A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.
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Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.
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I find I cannot exist without Poetry
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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.
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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.
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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
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Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.
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I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
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Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works.
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... 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.
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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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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.
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She press'd his hand in slumber so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
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O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
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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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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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The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
John Keats