John Keats Quotes

Quotes tagged as "john-keats" (showing 1-14 of 14)
John Keats
“You are always new. THe last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. When you pass'd my window home yesterday, I was fill'd with as much admiration as if I had then seen you for the first time...Even if you did not love me I could not help an entire devotion to you.”
John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne

John Keats
“I never knew before, what such a love as you have made me feel, was; I did not believe in it; my Fancy was afraid of it, lest it should burn me up. But if you will fully love me, though there may be some fire, 'twill not be more than we can bear when moistened and bedewed with Pleasures.”
John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne

John Keats
“X.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!”

XI.

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill’s side.

XII.

And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.”
John Keats

John Keats
“My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you – I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again – my Life seems to stop there – I see no further. You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving – I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you ... I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion – I have shudder'd at it – I shudder no more – I could be martyr'd for my Religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that – I could die for you.”
John Keats, Letters of John Keats to Fanny Brawne; Written in the Years MDCCCXIX and MDCCCXX and Now Given from the Original Manuscripts

John Keats
“Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.”
John Keats

John Keats
“Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
---"On death”
John Keats, Complete Poems and Selected Letters

John Keats
“When shall we pass a day alone? I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank love - but if you should deny me the thousand and first - 'twould put me to the proof how great a misery I could live through.”
John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne

Percy Bysshe Shelley
“And in a mad trance
Strike with our spirit's knife
Invulnerable nothings
We decay
Like corpses in a charnel
Fear & Grief
Convulse is & consume us
Day by day
And cold hopes swarm
Like worms within
Our living clay”
Percy Bysshe Shelley, Adonais

Percy Bysshe Shelley
“The splendors of the firmament of time
May be eclipsed, but are extinguished not;
Like stars to their appointed height they climb
And death is a low mist which cannot blot
The brightness it may veil.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Major Works

Kate Atkinson
“She fed him scraps from her ragbag because words were all that were left now. Perhaps he could use them to pay the ferryman. Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold. The world is charged with the grandeur of God. Full fathom five thy father lies. Little lamb, who made thee? Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie. On that best portion of a good man's life, his little nameless unremembered acts of kindness and of love. Farther and farther, all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.

The air rippled and shimmered. Time narrowed to a pinpoint. It was about to happen. Because the Holy Ghost over the bent world broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
Kate Atkinson, A God in Ruins

John Keats
“I am profoundly enchanted by the flowing complexity in you.”
John Keats

John Keats
“For so delicious were the words she sung,it seem'd he had loved them a whole summer long.”
John Keats, Lamia

Percy Bysshe Shelley
“Reading does not occupy me enough: the only relief I find springs from the composition of poetry, which necessitates contemplations that lift me above the stormy mist of sensations which are my habitual place of abode. I have lately been composing a poem on Keats; it is better than anything I have yet written and worthy both of him and of me.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley

John Keats
“Fino a che una cosa non ci ammala, non la capiamo.”
John Keats