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What is there in thee, Moon! That thou should'st move My heart so potently?
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Thee
Moon
Move
Moving
Heart
Thou
More quotes by John Keats
... Who alive can say 'Thou art no Poet - mayst not tell thy dreams'? Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved, And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.
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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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The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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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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I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.
John Keats
Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
John Keats
Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.
John Keats
You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest the last smile the brightest the last movement the gracefullest.
John Keats
I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
John Keats
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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Four seasons fill the measure of the year there are four seasons in the minds of men.
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Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
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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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I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave--thank God for the quiet grave--O! I can feel the cold earth upon me--the daisies growing over me--O for this quiet--it will be my first.
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To bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty
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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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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
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Some say the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul-making.
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