183 ordspråk av John Keats

John Keats

John Keats föddes den 31 oktober 1795 och dog den 23 februar 1821
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Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard / Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; / Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared, / Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.

Souls of poets dead and gone, / What Elysium have ye known, / Happy field or mossy cavern, / Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? / Have ye tippled drink more fine / Than mine host's Canary wine?

`If I should die', said I to myself, `I have left no immortal work behind me - nothing to make my friends proud of my memory - but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered.'

Parting they seemed to tread upon the air,/ Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart / Only to meet again more close.

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...

Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity -it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

Poesi

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

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist / Wolf 's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, / Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs.

Thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, / In some melodious plot / of beechen green, and shadows numberless, / Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

Here are sweet-peas, on tip-toe 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.

I do think better of womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not.

The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing /to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts. Not a select party.

Deep in the shady sadness of a vale / Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, / Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star, / Sat gray-haired Saturn, quiet as a stone.

What occasions the greater part of the world's quarrels? Simply this: Two minds meet and do not understand each other in time enough to prevent any shock of surprise at the conduct of either party

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