Quotes
Quotes - Keats
He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
I long to believe in immortality. . . . If I am destined to be happy with you here--how short is the longest life. I wish to believe in immortality--I wish to live with you forever.
Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
But were there ever any Writhed not at passed joy?
Oh for a life of sensations rather than thoughts.
A proverb is no proverb to you until life has illustrated it.
Love is my religion - I could die for it.
The poetry of the earth is never dead.
'Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright, And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen- For what listen they?
Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing, But divine melodious truth.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown.
Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir.
St Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold.
Dry your eyes--O dry your eyes, For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies.
Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.
The poppies hung Dew-dabbed on their stalks.
Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze most softly lulling to my soul.
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven; We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings.
You have ravished me away by a Power I cannot resist; and yet I could resist till I saw you; and even since I have seen you I endeavored often "to reason against the reasons of my Love."
O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,-- Nature's observatory--whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute, In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci."
O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
To Sorrow I bade good-morrow, And though to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, cheerly, She loves me dearly: She is so constant to me, and so kind.
How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
