The rudiment of verse may, possibly, be found in the spondee.
EDGAR ALLAN POEYet mad I am not and very surely do I not dream.
More Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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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.
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That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward.
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A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it.
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There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm.
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All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire.
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We loved with a love that was more than love.
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Lord, help my poor soul.
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Art is to look at not to criticize.
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And so being young and dipped in folly I fell in love with melancholy.
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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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Even for those to whom life and death are equal jests. There are some things that are still held in respect.
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If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul; you haven’t experienced poetry.
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Never to suffer would never to have been blessed.
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Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best have gone to their eternal rest.
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Happiness is not to be found in knowledge, but in the acquisition of knowledge.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence.
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Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger, portion of truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.
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Blood was its Avatar and its seal.
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I have great faith in fools – self-confidence my friends will call it.
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Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
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I am a writer. Therefore, I am not sane.
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Years of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute.
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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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Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore.
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I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.
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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.
EDGAR ALLAN POE