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.
EDGAR ALLAN POELord, help my poor soul.
More Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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If a man deceives me once, shame on him; if he deceives me twice, shame on me.
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I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
The past is a pebble in my shoe.
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To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.
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A million candles have burned themselves out. Still I read on.
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The best things in life make you sweaty.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Sleep, those little slices of death – how I loathe them.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
The rudiment of verse may, possibly, be found in the spondee.
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I intend to put up with nothing that I can put down.
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Years of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
The true genius shudders at incompleteness – and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be.
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Even in the grave, all is not lost.
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I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
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.
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Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
When a madman appears thoroughly sane, indeed, it is high time to put him in a straight jacket.
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The depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not upon the mountain-tops where she is found.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best have gone to their eternal rest.
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We had always dwelled together, beneath a tropical sun, in the Valley of the Many Colored Grass.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day; or the agonies which are have their origins in ecstasies which might have been.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame.
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Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries.
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The believer is happy. The doubter is wise.
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Now this is the point. You fancy me a mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
False hope is nicer than no hope at all.
EDGAR ALLAN POE