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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.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Like
Means
Mouth
Else
Absence
Everything
Mouths
Without
Hour
Mean
Taste
Chaff
Every
Hours
Concentrated
Make
Happy
Tastes
Life
Wish
Invent
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one of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind's imagining into another
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Works of genius are the first things in the world.
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I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.
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That which is creative must create itself.
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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.
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I would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
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Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green there is a budding morrow in midnight there is triple sight in blindness keen.
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When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.
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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.
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I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.
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I will clamber through the clouds and exist.
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I find I cannot exist without Poetry
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Why employ intelligent and highly paid ambassadors and then go and do their work for them? You don't buy a canary and sing yourself.
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Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
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She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around.
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A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power 'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.
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It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
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O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.
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Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.
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