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Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Buried
Summer
Dreams
Path
Away
Dream
Sleepy
Time
Paths
Twilight
More quotes by John Keats
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously - I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.
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I wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. Every hour I am more and more concentrated in you everything else tastes like chaff in my mouth.
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It is a flaw In happiness to see beyond our bourn, - It forces us in summer skies to mourn, It spoils the singing of the nightingale.
John Keats
How sad it is when a luxurious imagination is obliged in self defense to deaden its delicacy in vulgarity, and riot in things attainable that it may not have leisure to go mad after things that are not.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them thou has thy music too.
John Keats
Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.
John Keats
Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?
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I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
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Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream, And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by? ---On death
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A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
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No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.
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We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.
John Keats
A man's life of any worth is a continual allegory, and very few eyes can see the mystery of his life, a life like the scriptures, figurative.
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A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.
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The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
John Keats