A Thing Of Beautyby Elias Lieberman
Format of Original Source: Short Story
Recommended Adaptation Length:
Candidate for Adaptation? Not Reviewed
“You are addressing Keats, John Keats.”
“I tell you, Mister Keats, there ain’t no beauty when you’re up against it. I tell you–“
“Won’t you accept this rose?”
“I’ll take it,” growled Slavinsky with unnecessary fierceness. “It ain’t Nature’s fault. She don’t go in for profiteering.” The agitator’s conversational style was more colloquial though no less vehement than his platform manner.
“Did you note the omission?” Keats inquired when we were again on the avenue.
“It isn’t impoliteness,” I replied. “Men of his class are too stirred by cosmic problems to say ‘Thank you.'”
“It is a beautiful thing to say, nevertheless, and the world needs it.” I thought the eyes of John Keats–a fitting name for such a fantastic personality–were filling with tears.
A one-note story about a man who claims to go by the name of “John Keats,” handing out roses because “a thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Not much here. Perhaps a song?
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