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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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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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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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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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A strong argument for the religion of Christ is this - that offences against Charity are about the only ones which men on their death-beds can be made - not to understand - but to feel - as crime.
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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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If a poem hasn't ripped apart your soul; you haven't experienced poetry.
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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 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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Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
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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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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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They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
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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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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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To observe attentively is to remember distinctly.
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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.
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All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.