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... Who alive can say 'Thou art no Poet - mayst not tell thy dreams'? Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved, And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Wells
Alive
Hath
Well
Since
Tongue
Every
Speak
Thou
Would
Tell
Poet
Men
Mother
Whose
Mayst
Art
Dreams
Clod
Dream
Loved
Nurtured
Soul
Vision
Visions
More quotes by John Keats
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.
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Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
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When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.
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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine - Unweave a rainbow.
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one of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind's imagining into another
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It is a flaw In happiness to see beyond our bourn, - It forces us in summer skies to mourn, It spoils the singing of the nightingale.
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You speak of Lord Byron and me there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.
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Its better to lose your ego to the One you Love than to lose the One you Love to your Ego
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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!
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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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--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
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We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.
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No, no, I'm sure, My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully, espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the Imagination – What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not – for I have the same Idea of all our Passions as of Love they are all in their sublime, creative of essential Beauty . . .
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She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around.
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I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.
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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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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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How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they
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A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
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