John Keats Quotes

I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.

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.

I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination.

Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?

Life is but a day:
A fragile dewdrop on its perilious way
From a tree's summit

The problems of the world cannot possibly be solved by skeptics or cynics whose horizons are limited by the obvious realities. We need men who can dream of things that never were.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Here lies one whose name was writ on water.

Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter

For axioms in philosophy are not axioms until they are proved upon our pulses.

There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in the rubbish.

Wherein lies happiness? In that which becks
Our ready minds to fellowship divine,
A fellowship with essence; till we shine,
Full alchemiz’d, and free of space. Behold
The clear religion of heaven!

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!

Yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits.

The poetry of the earth is never dead.

Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not

If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all.

I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.

Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.