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.
The romantic in me is wishing she had said that.
lol I know the good things have already been said.
I …, well…, yeah …, agree …, but three days ONLY? Is it possible just a bit more? A bitty, bit, pleeeeeeeese:-))
You will get no argument from me, but it’s a bit late to take it up with Keats. 😦
I heard fifty common years can feel like just a few days of great memory…
And after seventy you got no memory at all.
I think that is why I like quotations. They say so much in so few words.
Short is beautiful.
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