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To bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Calm
Bear
Bears
Envisage
Circumstances
Composure
Circumstance
Sovereignty
Truths
Naked
More quotes by John Keats
It can be said of him, when he departed he took a Man's life with him. No sounder piece of British manhood was put together in that eighteenth century of Time.
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
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I do think better of womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not.
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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Faded the flower and all its budded charms,Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!Vanishd unseasonably
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Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.
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Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?
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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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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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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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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
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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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Call the world if you please the vale of soul-making. Then you will find out the use of the world.
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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
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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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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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I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
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Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering?
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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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