Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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If a poem hasn't ripped apart your soul; you haven't experienced poetry.
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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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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 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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The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.
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You will observe that the stories told are all about money-seekers, not about money-finders.
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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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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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Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
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All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
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Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
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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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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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And the cloud that took the form(When the rest of Heaven was blue)Of a demon in my view.
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I intend to put up with nothing that I can put down.
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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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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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The rudiment of verse may, possibly, be found in the spondee.
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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.
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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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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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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.
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All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.