Explore Quotes by John Keats

When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour, That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.

Beauty is truth, truth beauty

Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity.

I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.

Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.

When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.

I will clamber through the clouds and exist.

For Poesy alone can tell her dreams, With the fine spell of words alone can save Imagination from the sable charm And dumb enchantment. Who alive can say, ‘Thou art no Poet may’st 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. Whether the dream now purpos’d to rehearse Be poet’s or fanatic’s will be known When this warm scribe my hand is in the grave.

I find I cannot exist without Poetry

... the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown - the Air is our robe of state - the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.

We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.

Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them; thou has thy music too.

And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed, Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.

... for, by all the stars That tend thy bidding, I do think the bars That kept my spirit in are burst - that I Am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!

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.

But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the sky with silver glitterings!

Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen.

With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.

There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.

The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.