Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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Reality is the #1 cause of insanity among those who are in contact with it...
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In the Heaven's above, the angels, whispering to one another, can find, among their burning terms of love, none so devotional as that of 'Mother.
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I might refer at once, if necessary, to a hundred well authenticated instances. One of very remarkable character, and of which the circumstances may be fresh in the memory of some of my readers, occurred, not very long ago, in the neighboring city of Baltimore, where it occasioned a painful, intense, and widely extended excitement.
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All works of art should begin... at the end.
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The daguerreotype itself must undoubtedly be regarded as the most important, and perhaps the most extraordinary triumph of modern science.
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True, nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am, but why will say that I am mad?! The disease had haunted my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Of all the sense of hearing acute.
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In for ever knowing, we are for ever blessed; but to know all were the curse of a fiend...
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Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors ... on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be revealed.
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If we cannot comprehend God in his visible works, how then in his inconceivable thoughts, that call the works into being?
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All that he has to do is to write and publish a very little book. Its title should be simple -- a few plain words -- My Heart Laid Bare. But -- this little book must be true to its title.
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False hope is nicer than no hope at all.
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The best things in life make you sweaty.
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Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best have gone to their eternal rest.
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The result of law inviolate is perfection–right–negative happiness. The result of law violate is imperfection, wrong, positive pain.
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In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast On things around him with a ray Turned back upon the past? That holy dream- that holy dream, While all the world were chiding, Hath cheered me as a lovely beam A lonely spirit guiding. What though that light, thro' storm and night, So trembled from afar- What could there be more purely bright In Truth's day-star?
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A poem in my opinion, is opposed to a work of science by having for its immediate object, pleasure, not truth.
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Art is to look at not to criticize.
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We gave the Future to the winds, and slumbered tranquilly in the Present, weaving the dull world around us into dreams.
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I found him well educated, with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misanthropy, and subject to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm and melancholy.
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There is no passion in nature so demoniacally impatient, as that of him who, shuddering upon the edge of a precipice, thus meditates a Plunge.
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A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young.
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And because our reason violently deters us from the brink, therefore, do we the more impetuously approach it. There is no passion in nature so demoniacally impatient, as that of him, who shuddering upon the edge of a precipice, thus meditates a plunge. To indulge for a moment, in any attempt at thought, is to be inevitably lost; for reflection but urges us to forbear, and therefore it is, I say, that we cannot. If there be no friendly arm to check us, or if we fail in a sudden effort to prostrate ourselves backward from the abyss, we plunge, and are destroyed.
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Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly, I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Leonore - For the rare and radiant maiden who the angels name Lenore - Nameless here for evermore.
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It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain, but, once conceived, it haunted me day and night.