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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Merriment
Dost
Lightness
Borrow
Sorrow
May
Heart
More quotes by John Keats
I wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. Every hour I am more and more concentrated in you everything else tastes like chaff in my mouth.
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Stop and consider! life is but a day
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I came to feel how far above All fancy, pride, and fickle maidenhood, All earthly pleasure, all imagined good, Was the warm tremble of a devout kiss.
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I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
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Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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Knowledge enormous makes a God of me. Names, deeds, gray legends, dire events, rebellions, Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, Creations and destroyings, all at once Pour into the wide hollows of my brain, And deify me, as if some blithe wine Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk, And so become immortal.
John Keats
Works of genius are the first things in the world.
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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.
John Keats
My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.
John Keats
She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around.
John Keats
Feeling well that breathed words Would all be lost, unheard, and vain as swords Against the enchased crocodile, or leaps Of grasshoppers against the sun.
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Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.
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My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
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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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And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in!
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Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.
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With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.
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Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host's Canary wine?
John Keats
O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,-- Nature's observatory--whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
John Keats