Edgar Allan Poe

“Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil!”

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.”

“And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sittingOn the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door.”

“And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floorShall be lifted — nevermore!”

“The skies they were ashen and sober;Of my most immemorial year.”

“Here once, through an alley Titanic,Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.”

“Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,And tempted her out of her gloom.”

“It was many and many a year ago,Than to love and be loved by me.”

“I was a child and she was a child, Coveted her and me.”

“Music, when combined with a pleasurable idea, is poetry; music, without the idea, is simply music; the idea, without the music, is prose, from its very definitiveness.”

“But our love it was stronger by far than the loveOf the beautiful Annabel Lee”

“In her sepulcher there by the sea — In her tomb by the sounding sea.”

“A poem deserves its title only inasmuch as it excites, by elevating the soul.”

“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.”

“I would define, in brief, the Poetry of words as the Rhythmical Creation of Beauty. Its sole arbiter is taste. With the intellect or with the conscience, it has only collateral relations. Unless incidentally, it has no concern whatever either with duty or with truth.”

“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?”

“To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.”

“Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.”

“The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.”

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,”

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal.”

“Thy soul shall find itself alone”

“I have great faith in fools; self-confidence my friends call it.”

“I have great faith in fools; self-confidence my friends call it.”

“We loved with a love that was more than love.”

“And here, in thought, to thee-”

“For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams”

“There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man.”

“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.”

“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.”

“I saw thee once - only once - years ago:”

“From childhood's hour I have not been”

“A skillful literary artist has constructed a tale. If wise, he has not fashioned his thoughts to accommodate his incidents; but having conceived, with deliberate care, a certain unique or single effect to be wrought out, he then invents as may best aid him in establishing this preconceived effect. If his very initial sentence tend not to the outbringing of this effect, then he has failed in his first step. In the whole composition there should be no words written, of which the tendency, direct or indirect, is not to the one pre-established design. And by such means, with such care and skill, a picture is at length painted which leaves in the mind of him who contemplates it with a kindred art, a sense of the fullest satisfaction. The idea of the tale has been presented unblemished because undisturbed: and this is an end unattainable by the novel. Undue brevity is just as exceptionable here as in the poem; but undue length is yet more to be avoided.”

“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?”

“As a poet and as a mathematician, he would reason well; as a mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned at all.”

“It was many and many a year ago,”

“The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.”

“And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting”

“There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man.”

“I Dwelt alone”

“Even in the grave, all is not lost.”

“You call it hope — that fire of fire!”

“They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.”

“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.”

“With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.”

“Other friends have flown before -”

“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.”

“Sleep, those little slices of death — how I loathe them.”

“I have no faith in human perfectibility. 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.”

“For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams”

“To vilify a great man is the readiest way in which a little man can himself attain greatness.”

“A dark unfathom'd tide Should my early life seem.”

“O, human love! thou spirit given,On Earth, of all we hope in Heaven!”

“Lord help my poor soul.”

“The happiest day — the happiest hourI feel hath flown.”

“Years of love have been forgotIn the hatred of a minute.”

“From childhood's hour I have not beenAnd all I lov'd — I lov'd alone —”

“And the cloud that took the formOf a demon in my view.”

“Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?”

“I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty.”

“I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of Beauty.”

“It is with literature as with law or empire — an established name is an estate in tenure, or a throne in possession.”

“Music, when combined with a pleasurable idea, is poetry; music without the idea is simply music; the idea without the music is prose from its very definitiveness.”

“The ninety and nine are with dreams, content but the hope of the world made new, is the hundredth man who is grimly bent on making those dreams come true.”

“Yes, Heaven is thine; but thisOur flowers are merely—flowers.”

“If I could dwellFrom my lyre within the sky.”

“Come! let the burial rite be read — the funeral song be sung! — A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young.”

“Vastness! and Age! and Memories of Eld!I feel ye now — I feel ye in your strength.”

“Thou wast that all to me, love,And all the flowers were mine.”

“The ninety and nine are with dreams, content but the hope of the world made new, is the hundredth man who is grimly bent on making those dreams come true.”

“And all my days are trances,By what eternal streams.”

“Convinced myself, I seek not to convince.”

“And as, in ethics, Evil is a consequence of Good, so, in fact, out of Joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are, have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.”

“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.”

“During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.”

“In the greenest of our valleysRadiant palace — reared its head.”

“While, like a ghastly rapid river,And laugh — but smile no more.”

“Few persons can be made to believe that it is not quite an easy thing to invent a method of secret writing which shall baffle investigation. Yet it may be roundly asserted that human ingenuity cannot concoct a cipher which human ingenuity cannot resolve.”

“They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.”

“Had the routine of our life at this place been known to the world, we should have been regarded as madmen —; although, perhaps, as madmen of a harmless nature.”

“The best chess-player in Christendom may be little more than the best player of chess; but proficiency in whist implies capacity for success in all these more important undertakings where mind struggles with mind.”

“To observe attentively is to remember distinctly.”

“While the angels, all pallid and wan,And its hero the Conqueror Worm.”

“Take this kiss upon the brow!”

“Man is an animal that diddles, and there is no animal that diddles but man.”

“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?”

“By a route obscure and lonely,Out of SPACE — out of TIME.”

“With me poetry has been not a purpose, but a passion; and the passions should be held in reverence: they must not — they cannot at will be excited, with an eye to the paltry compensations, or the more paltry commendations, of mankind.”

“Thou wouldst be loved? — then let thy heartAnd love — a simple duty.”

“For the love of God Montresor!”

“Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.”

“The death then of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world, and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover.”

“The object, Truth, or the satisfaction of the intellect, and the object, Passion, or the excitement of the heart, are, although attainable, to a certain extent, in poetry, far more readily attainable in prose.”

“To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.”

“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.”

“Can it be fancied that Deity ever vindictivelyMade in his image a mannikin merely to madden it?”

“Depend upon it, after all, Thomas, Literature is the most noble of professions. In fact, it is about the only one fit for a man. For my own part, there is no seducing me from the path.”

“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?”

“Gaily bedight,In search of Eldorado.”

“Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.”

“Over the Mountains"If you seek for Eldorado!”

“Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.”

“You are not wrong, who deemIs but a dream within a dream.”

“O God! Can I not saveBut a dream within a dream?”

“Thank Heaven! the crisis —Is conquered at last.”

“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.”

“Keeping time, time, time,Bells, bells, bells.”

“As for myself, I am simply Hop-Frog, the jester — and this is my last jest.”

“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.”

“Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.”

“Lo! Death has reared himself a throneHave gone to their eternal rest.”

“Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!”

“So blend the turrets and shadows thereDeath looks gigantically down.”

“And when, amid no earthly moans,Shall do it reverence.”

“TRUE! — nervous — very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?”

“Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture — a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees — very gradually — I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye for ever.”

“And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses? -- now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.”

“If you still think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.”

“Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term Art, I should call it 'the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul.' The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of 'Artist.'”

“Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.”

“Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! — tear up the planks! — here, here! — it is the beating of his hideous heart!”

“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.”

“There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man.”

“I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others. I suffered myself to use intemperate language to my wife. At length, I even offered her personal violence.”

“The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.”

“Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole intimates — the darkest and most evil of thoughts. The moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; while, from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas! was the most usual and the most patient of sufferers.”

“I have no words — alas! — to tell”

“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!”

“If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.”

“I”

“After reading all that has been written, and after thinking all that can be thought on the topics of God and the soul, the man who has a right to say that he thinks at all, will find himself face to face with the conclusion that, on these topics, the most profound thought is that which can be the least easily distinguished from the most superficial sentiment.”

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”

“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.”

“If any ambitious man have a fancy to revolutionize at one effort the universal world of human thought, human opinion, and human sentiment, the opportunity is his own — the road to immortal renown lies straight, open, and unencumbered before him. All that he has to do is to write and publish a very little book. Its title should be simple — a few plain words — "My Heart Laid Bare." But — this little book must be true to its title.”

“How many good books suffer neglect through the inefficiency of their beginnings!”

“In reading some books we occupy ourselves chiefly with the thoughts of the author; in perusing others, exclusively with our own.”

“Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term "Art," I should call it "the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul." The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of "Artist".”

“Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger, portion of truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.”

“For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams”

“I have great faith in fools — self-confidence my friends will call it.”

“That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward.”

“True, nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am, but why will say that I am mad?! The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute.”

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.”

“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.”

“Sorrow for the lost Lenore — Nameless here for evermore.”

“And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtainThrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.”

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”

“Twas noontide of summer,”

“I have been happy, though in a dream.”

“Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore —Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.”

“"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore.”