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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
Sovereignty
Truths
Naked
Calm
Bear
Bears
Envisage
Circumstances
Composure
Circumstance
More quotes by John Keats
Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
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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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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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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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Stop and consider! life is but a day
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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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I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.
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My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
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He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
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I am convinced more and more day by day that fine writing is next to fine doing, the top thing in the world.
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You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest the last smile the brightest the last movement the gracefullest.
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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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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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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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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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The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
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Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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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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The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.
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She press'd his hand in slumber so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
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