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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.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
First
Quiet
Feel
Cold
Feels
Shall
Daisies
Growing
Laid
Upon
Grave
Death
Graves
Earth
Thank
Firsts
Soon
More quotes by John Keats
I will give you a definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom one filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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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 would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
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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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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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... the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown - the Air is our robe of state - the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.
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Shed no tear - O, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more - O, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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To stay youthful, stay useful.
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The opinion I have of the generality of women--who appear to me as children to whom I would rather give a sugar plum than my time, forms a barrier against matrimony which I rejoice in.
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It ought to come like the leaves to the trees, or it better not come at all.
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Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
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A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
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Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.
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I will clamber through the clouds and exist.
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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.
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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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O latest born and loveliest vision far of all Olympus' faded hierarchy.
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