We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author. John Keats More Quotes by John Keats More Quotes From John Keats There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music. John Keats life-and-lovemusicworld I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest. John Keats failurefearwar And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed, Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head. John Keats bedflowerart I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me. John Keats thunderarmswish As the Swiss inscription says: Sprechen ist silbern, Schweigen ist golden,- "Speech is silvern, Silence is golden;" or, as I might rather express it, Speech is of Time, Silence is of Eternity. John Keats speechsilencetime ...I leaped headlong into the Sea, and thereby have become more acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice. John Keats rocksseasilly The excellence of every Art is its intensity. John Keats intensityexcellenceart I have loved the principle of beauty in all things. John Keats gratitudeprinciplesall-things With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration. John Keats poetovercomingbeauty I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating; but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating! John Keats heartlovelying The feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steel it. John Keats healsteelgrieving Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, John Keats flowerairrose The air is all softness. John Keats softnessair A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world. John Keats takenshould-havemen My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it. John Keats restlessbodymind 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 whitewingssweet Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing, But divine melodious truth. John Keats nightingalesdivine Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul. John Keats poppiesdancingsoul Land and sea, weakness and decline are great separators, but death is the great divorcer for ever. John Keats divorceseadeath She press'd his hand in slumber; so once more John Keats romantic-lovekissinghands
