poetry, thoughts, quotations



I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days – three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.

John Keats

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9 thoughts on “Delight

  1. Sigh…
    The romantic in me is wishing she had said that.


  2. I …, well…, yeah …, agree …, but three days ONLY? Is it possible just a bit more? A bitty, bit, pleeeeeeeese:-))


  3. I heard fifty common years can feel like just a few days of great memory…


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