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O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Smooth
Till
Bird
Sea
Comfortable
Magic
Sleep
Hush
Mind
Troubled
More quotes by John Keats
My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
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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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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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'Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright. And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen- For what listen they?
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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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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
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No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.
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Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works.
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Why employ intelligent and highly paid ambassadors and then go and do their work for them? You don't buy a canary and sing yourself.
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My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
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And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.
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O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.
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There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish.
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I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!
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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green there is a budding morrow in midnight there is triple sight in blindness keen.
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