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| Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard / Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; / Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared, / Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone. |
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| Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter. |
| Hearing |
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| Here are sweet-peas, on tip-toe for a flight:/ With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white,/ And taper fingers catching at all things, / To bind them all about with tiny rings. |
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| I am certain of nothing but the Holiness of the Heart's affections and the Truth of the Imagination |
| Affection |
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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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| I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top. |
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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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| I compare human life to a large mansion of many apartments, two of which I can only describe, the doors of the rest being as yet shut upon me |
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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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| I equally dislike the favor of the public with the love of a woman -- they are both a cloying treacle to the wings of independence. |
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| I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for religion --I have shuddered at it. I shudder no more --I could be martyred for my religion --Love is my religion --I could die for that. |
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| I have never yet been able to perceive how anything can be known for truth by consecutive reasoning - and yet it must be. |
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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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| I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else. |
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| I see a lilly on thy brow, / With anguish moist and fever dew; / And on thy cheek a fading rose / Fast withereth too. I met a lady in the meads / Full beautiful, a faery's child; / Her hair was long, her foot was light, / And her eyes were wild. |
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| I think I shall be among the English poets after my death. |
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