O there is nothing like fine weather, and health, and
Books, and a fine country, and a contented Mind, and Diligent habit of reading
and thinking, and an amulet against the ennui — and, please heaven, a little
claret-wine cool out of a cellar a mile deep — with a few or a good many
ratafia cakes — a rocky basin to bathe in, a strawberry bed to say your prayers
to Flora in . . .
John Keats
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