Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made.
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No pictorial or sculptural combinations of points of human loveliness, do more than approach the living and breathing human beauty as it gladdens our daily path.
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I have been happy, though in a dream. I have been happy – and I love the theme: Dreams! in their vivid colouring of life As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife...
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Truth is not always in a well. In fact, as regards the more important knowledge, I do believe that she is invariably superficial. The depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not upon the mountain-tops where she is found.
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Boston: Their hotels are bad. Their pumpkin pies are delicious. Their poetry is not so good.
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From a proud tower in the town, Death looks gigantically down.
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I dread the events of the future, not in themselves but in their results.
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By late accounts from Rotterdam, that city seems to be in a high state of philosophical excitement. Indeed, phenomena have there occurred of a nature so completely unexpected--so entirely novel--so utterly at variance with preconceived opinions--as to leave no doubt on my mind that long ere this all Europe is in an uproar, all physics in a ferment, all reason and astronomy together by the ears.
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To be thoroughly conversant with Man’s heart, is to take our final lesson in the iron-clasped volume of Despair...
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All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire.
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No man who ever lived knows any more about the hereafter than you and I.
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We allude to the short prose narrative, requiring from a half hour to one or two hours in its perusal...
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The realities of the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn,—not the material of my every-day existence--but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself.
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For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
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I am heartily sick of this life & of the nineteenth century in general. I am convinced that every thing is going wrong.
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A fearful instance of the ill consequences attending upon irascibility - alive, with the qualifications of the dead - dead, with the propensities of the living - an anomaly on the face of the earth - being very calm, yet breathless.
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Marking a book is literally an experience of your differences or agreements with the author. It is the highest respect you can pay him.
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For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down in words, with even more distinctness than that with which I conceived it.
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Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want.
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After reading all that has been written, and after thinking all that can be thought, on the topics of God and the soul, the man who has a right to say that he thinks at all, will find himself face to face with the conclusion that, on these topics, the most profound thought is that which can be the least easily distinguished from the most superficial sentiment.
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In the tale proper--where there is no space for development of character or for great profusion and variety of incident--mere construction is, of course, far more imperatively demanded than in the novel.
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He knew that Hop-Frog was not fond of wine; for it excited the poor cripple almost to madness; and madness is no comfortable feeling.
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Dreams are the eraser dust I blow off my page. They fade into the emptiness, another dark gray day. Dreams are only memories of the plans I had back then. Dreams are eraser dust and now I use a pen.
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That is another of your odd notions," said the Prefect, who had a fashion of calling every thing "odd" that was beyond his comprehension, and thus lived amid an absolute legion of "oddities.