Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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This-all this-was in the oldenTime long ago.
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And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sittingOn the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door.
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Lo! Death has reared himself a throneIn a strange city lying aloneFar down within the dim West,Where the good and the bad and the worst and the bestHave gone to their eternal rest.
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The unity of effect or impression is a point of the greatest importance. It is clear, moreover, that this unity cannot be thoroughly preserved in productions whose perusal cannot be completed at one sitting.
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'Over the MountainsOf the Moon,Down the Valley of the Shadow,Ride, boldly ride,'The shade replied, - 'If you seek for Eldorado!'
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There is then no analogy whatever between the operations of the Chess-Player, and those of the calculating machine of Mr. Babbage, and if we choose to call the former a pure machine we must be prepared to admit that it is, beyond all comparison, the most wonderful of the inventions of mankind.
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For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not - and very surely do I not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburthen my soul.
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Few persons can be made to believe that it is not quite an easy thing to invent a method of secret writing that shall baffle investigation. Yet it may be roundly asserted that human ingenuity cannot concoct a cipher which human ingenuity cannot resolve.
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I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.
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Sound loves to revel in a summer night.
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There neither exists nor can exist any work more thoroughly dignified - more supremely noble than this very poem - this poem per se - this poem which is a poem and nothing more - this poem written solely for the poem's sake.
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It is clear that a poem may be improperly brief. Undue brevity degenerates into mere epigrammatism. A very short poem, while now and then producing a brilliant or vivid, never produces a profound or enduring, effect. There must be the steady pressing down of the stamp upon the wax.
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In her sepulcher there by the sea - In her tomb by the sounding sea.
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As for myself, I am simply Hop-Frog, the jester - and this is my last jest.
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Thank Heaven! the crisis -The danger is past,And the lingering illnessIs over at last -And the fever called 'Living'Is conquered at last.
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While, like a ghastly rapid river,Through the pale doorA hideous throng rush out foreverAnd laugh - but smile no more.
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Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.
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Sleep, those little slices of death — how I loathe them.
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So blend the turrets and shadows thereThat all seem pendulous in air,While from a proud tower in the townDeath looks gigantically down.
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For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.
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The most 'popular,' the most 'successful' writers among us (for a brief period, at least) are, 99 times out of a hundred, persons of mere effrontery-in a word, busy-bodies, toadies, quacks.
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In reading some books we occupy ourselves chiefly with the thoughts of the author; in perusing others, exclusively with our own.
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Always keep a big bottle of booze at your side. If a bird starts talking nonsense to you in the middle of the night pour yourself a stiff drink.
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Here once, through an alley Titanic,Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul - Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.