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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
Mind
Troubled
Smooth
Till
Bird
Sea
Comfortable
Magic
Sleep
Hush
More quotes by John Keats
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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Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
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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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How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they
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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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Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.
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O let me lead her gently o'er the brook, Watch her half-smiling lips and downward look O let me for one moment touch her wrist Let me one moment to her breathing list And as she leaves me, may she often turn Her fair eyes looking through her locks auburne.
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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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When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain.
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He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
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Time, that aged nurse, Rocked me to patience.
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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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The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted: thence proceeds mawkishness.
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A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power 'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.
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Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.
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A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.
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