‘Why don’t you, as I do, look unconcerned at what may be called more particularly Heart-vexations?’
To J. H. Reynolds, 22 November 1817
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‘Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from the fiery noon, and eve’s one star, Sat gray-hair’d Saturn, quiet as a stone…’
John Keats
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