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As the Swiss inscription says: Sprechen ist silbern, Schweigen ist golden,- Speech is silvern, Silence is golden or, as I might rather express it, Speech is of Time, Silence is of Eternity.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Says
Inscription
Rather
Inscriptions
Might
Swiss
Time
Golden
Express
Eternity
Speech
Silence
More quotes by John Keats
Time, that aged nurse, Rocked me to patience.
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It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
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When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain.
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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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And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.
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There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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All my clear-eyed fish, Golden, or rainbow-sided, or purplish, Vermilion-tail'd, or finn'd with silvery gauze... My charming rod, my potent river spells.
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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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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Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.
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Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers.
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I have so much of you in my heart.
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The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
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With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.
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I do think better of womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not.
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Even bees, the little almsmen of spring bowers, know there is richest juice in poison-flowers.
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
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