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Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Littles
Commonplace
Little
Crowd
Made
Crowds
Would
Famous
Fame
Among
Wish
Throng
Lost
Individually
More quotes by John Keats
I came to feel how far above All fancy, pride, and fickle maidenhood, All earthly pleasure, all imagined good, Was the warm tremble of a devout kiss.
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We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.
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I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
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I am convinced more and more day by day that fine writing is next to fine doing, the top thing in the world.
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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.
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You speak of Lord Byron and me there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.
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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.
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O aching time! O moments big as years!
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An extensive knowledge is needful to thinking people-it takes away the heat and fever and helps, by widening speculation, to ease the burden of the mystery.
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Its better to lose your ego to the One you Love than to lose the One you Love to your Ego
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Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
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My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.
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Don't be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience.
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The poetry of earth is never dead When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide I cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.
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I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.
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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?
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It appears to me that almost any man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy citadel.
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Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
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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.
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