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Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Rose
Eldest
Wine
Haunt
Summer
Violet
Coming
Fading
Full
Flies
Child
Cover
Dewy
May
Leaves
Musk
Children
Fast
Violets
More quotes by John Keats
Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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That queen of secrecy, the violet.
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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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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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Some say the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul-making.
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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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No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures Than I began to think of rhymes and measures: The air that floated by me seem'd to say 'Write! thou wilt never have a better day.
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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
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All writing is a form of prayer.
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A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
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I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
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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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It ought to come like the leaves to the trees, or it better not come at all.
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A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.
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Don't be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience.
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Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not
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