Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries.
EDGAR ALLAN POEAll that we see and seem is but a dream within a dream.
More Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect – in terror.
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There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told.
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The believer is happy. The doubter is wise.
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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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We had always dwelled together, beneath a tropical sun, in the Valley of the Many Colored Grass.
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Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.”
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Even in the grave, all is not lost.
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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.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
That which you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses.
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Those who gossip with you will gossip about you.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Invisible things are the only realities.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Happiness is not to be found in knowledge, but in the acquisition of knowledge.
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I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty.
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We loved with a love that was more than love.
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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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There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion.
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I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.
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To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.
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Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
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Every poem should remind the reader that they are going to die.
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All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire.
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As a poet and as a mathematician, he would reason well; as a mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned at all.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
The eye, like a shattered mirror, multiplies the images of sorrow.
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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