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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.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Forces
Nightingale
Sky
Spoils
Summer
Nightingales
Singing
Flaw
Beyond
Skies
Happiness
Mourn
Force
Spoil
Flaws
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I have so much of you in my heart.
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You are always new to me.
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Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine - how good how fine. It went down all pulpy, slushy, oozy, all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large, beatified Strawberry.
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Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
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it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously - I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.
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All writing is a form of prayer.
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I would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
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Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
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I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
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Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them thou has thy music too.
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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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Some say the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul-making.
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Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
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My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it.... I never felt my mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment- upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of window: you always concentrate my whole senses
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You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.
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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
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