Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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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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The higher powers of the reflective intellect are more decidedly and more usefully tasked by the unostentatious game of draughts than by all the elaborate frivolity of chess.
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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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You will observe that the stories told are all about money-seekers, not about money-finders.
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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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All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
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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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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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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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And the cloud that took the form(When the rest of Heaven was blue)Of a demon in my view.
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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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Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
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The rudiment of verse may, possibly, be found in the spondee.
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The happiest day - the happiest hourMy sear'd and blighted heart hath known,The highest hope of pride and power,I feel hath flown.
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Man is an animal that diddles, and there is no animal that diddles but man.
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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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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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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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Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of the truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.
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And all my days are trances,And all my nightly dreamsAre where thy grey eye glances,And where thy footstep gleams - In what ethereal dances,By what eternal streams.