‘I think, there is a core of disease in me not easy to pull out’
To Charles Browm, 14 August 1820
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‘By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide; – The chains lie silent on the footworn stones; – The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans. And they are gone: ay, ages long ago These lovers fled away into the storm…’
John Keats
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