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I would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Jump
Public
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Would
Popularity
More quotes by John Keats
My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
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That queen of secrecy, the violet.
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Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
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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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No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
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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.
John Keats
Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
John Keats
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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The world is too brutal for me-I am glad there is such a thing as the grave-I am sure I shall never have any rest till I get there.
John Keats
I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
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To stay youthful, stay useful.
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Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close.
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When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
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Even bees, the little almsmen of spring bowers, know there is richest juice in poison-flowers.
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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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We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.
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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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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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She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around.
John Keats