Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.
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By a route obscure and lonely,Haunted by ill angels only,Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,On a black throne reigns upright,I have reached these lands but newlyFrom an ultimate dim Thule - From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,Out of SPACE - out of TIME.
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It is impossible to describe, or to imagine, the deep, the blissful sense of relief which the absence of the detested creature occasioned in my bosom. It did not make its appearance during the night - and thus for one night at least, since its introduction into the house, I soundly and tranquilly slept; aye, slept even with the burden of murder upon my soul!
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Of puns it has been said that those who most dislike them are those who are least able to utter them.
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You will observe that the stories told are all about money-seekers, not about money-finders.
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All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
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If a poem hasn't ripped apart your soul; you haven't experienced poetry.
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The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.
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Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
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I intend to put up with nothing that I can put down.
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Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,-Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
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And the cloud that took the form(When the rest of Heaven was blue)Of a demon in my view.
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Vastness! and Age! and Memories of Eld!Silence! and Desolation! and dim Night!I feel ye now - I feel ye in your strength.
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I have no faith in human perfectability. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active - not more happy - nor more wise, than he was 6000 years ago.
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The rudiment of verse may, possibly, be found in the spondee.
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Man is an animal that diddles, and there is no animal that diddles but man.
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Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
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I need scarcely observe that a poem deserves its title only inasmuch as it excites, by elevating the soul. The value of the poem is in the ratio of this elevating excitement.
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They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
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To observe attentively is to remember distinctly.
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I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.
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All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
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Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.
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I attacked with great resolution the editorial matter, and, reading it from beginning to end without understanding a syllable, conceived the possibility of its being Chinese, and so re-read it from the end to the beginning, but with no more satisfactory result.