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Edgar Allan Poe Quote - Lord, help my poor soul.

Lord, help my poor soul.

Edgar Allan Poe

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The eye, like a shattered mirror, multiplies the images of sorrow.
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The best things in life make you sweaty.
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That which you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses.
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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?
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And so being young and dipped in folly I fell in love with melancholy.
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Every poem should remind the reader that they are going to die.
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I have great faith in fools – self-confidence my friends will call it.
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Leave my loneliness unbroken.
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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 true genius shudders at incompleteness – and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be.
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I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty.
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Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore.
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The world is a great ocean, upon which we encounter more tempestuous storms than calms.
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Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
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The true genius shudders at incompleteness – imperfection – and usually prefers silence to saying the something which is not everything that should be said.
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Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
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