In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look; But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.


John Keats

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Give me books, fruit, French wine and fine weather and a little music out of doors, played by someon...
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I think we may class the lawyer in the natural history of monsters.
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Are there not thousands in the world who love their fellows even to the death, who feel the giant ag...
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There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.
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I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.
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Health is my expected heaven.
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There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify -- so that among these human creatures t...
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The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeable evaporate.
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The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty...
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I would jump down Etna for any public good -- but I hate a mawkish popularity.
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Wide sea, that one continuous murmur breeds along the pebbled shore of memory!
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I always made an awkward bow.
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Though a quarrel in the streets is a thing to be hated, the energies displayed in it are fine; the c...
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A proverb is not a proverb to you until life has illustrated it.
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And on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest The silver clouds. - John Keats,
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And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.
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Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.
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Though the most beautiful creature were waiting for me at the end of a journey or a walk; though the...
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You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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It appears to me that almost any man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy cita...
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The poetry of the earth is never dead.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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I never felt my Mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment - upon no person ...
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You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.
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I go amongst the buildings of a city and I see a Man hurrying along - to what?
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Even now I am perhaps not speaking from myself: but from some character in whose soul I now live.
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Ah! dearest love, sweet home of all my fears,
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For axioms in philosophy are not axioms until they are proved upon our pulses.
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I must choose between despair and Energy──I choose the latter.
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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze most softly lulling to my soul.
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The poppies hung Dew-dabbed on their stalks.
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He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
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St Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold.
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Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dr...
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Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up th...
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Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing, But divine melodious truth.
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Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice ...
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Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, C...
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Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings?
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When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run Fro...
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Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almos...
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Beauty is truth, truth beauty, --that is all
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Tis the witching hour of night,
Or bed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, g...
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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
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To Sorrow I bade good-morrow, And though to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, chee...
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He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute, In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci."
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On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence.
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There is a budding morrow in midnight.
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Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, / Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; / Conspiring with...
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Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
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The latest dream I ever dreamed / On the cold hill side.
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Should ever the fine-eyed maid to me be kind; Ah! surely it must be whenever I find; Some flowery sp...
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Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen.
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Virgin-choir to make delicious moan / Upon the midnight hours.
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Oh what can ail thee, wretched wight, / Alone and palely loitering; / The sedge is withered from the...
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Soon, up aloft, / The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky building...
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Dry your eyes--O dry your eyes, For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies.
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We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.
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My chest of books divide amongst my friends--
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Touch has a memory. O say, love, say,
What can I do to kill it and be free?
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Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination.
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Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not
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Bright Star

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
Not in lone s...
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When shall we pass a day alone? I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank l...
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No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures
Than I began to think of rhymes and measures:
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I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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I have been astonished that men could die martyrs
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I have shuddered at...
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Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye.
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I wish to believe in immortality-I wish to live with you forever.
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My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for ...
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A thing of beauty is a joy forever:
Its loveliness increases;
It will never
Pass into...
JOHN KEATS
If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree, it had better not come at all
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Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know
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A thing of beauty is a joy forever; its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness
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Leaving great verse unto a little clan.
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Souls of poets dead and gone, / What Elysium have ye known, / Happy field or mossy cavern, / Choicer...
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Away with old Romance! Away with novels, plots and plays of foreign courts; Away with love-verses, s...
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Each Bond-street buck conceits, unhappy elf; He shows his clothes! alas! he shows himself. O...
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I wish I could say Tom was any better. His identity presses upon me so all day that I am obliged to ...
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A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence, because he has no identity - he is continual...
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Their smiles, / Wan as primroses gathered at midnight / By chilly-fingered Spring.
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Where's the cheek that doth not fade, / Too much gazed at?
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The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;/ And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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I stood tip-toe upon a little hill.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, / Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs.
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Pass into nothingness.
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A proverb is no proverb to you until life has illustrated it
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Once upon a time, the American met the Automobile and fell in love. Unfortunately, this led him into...
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On a half-reapèd furrow sound asleep, / Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook / Spares t...
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Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
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I see a lilly on thy brow, / With anguish moist and fever dew; / And on thy cheek a fading rose / Fa...
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Hard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
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Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain / Clings cruelly to us.
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Don't be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience. Failure is, in a sense, the high...
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And there I shut her wild, wild eyes / With kisses four.
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O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
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When I behold, upon the night's starred face, / Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance.
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Parting they seemed to tread upon the air,/ Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart / Only to meet agai...
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I have good reason to be content,
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Fairy Song
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Weep n...
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