Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries.
EDGAR ALLAN POEWe had always dwelled together, beneath a tropical sun, in the Valley of the Many Colored Grass.
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.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Those who gossip with you will gossip about you.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
A million candles have burned themselves out. Still I read on.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Sleep, those little slices of death – how I loathe them.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
That which you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Invisible things are the only realities.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Yet mad I am not and very surely do I not dream.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
I have great faith in fools – self-confidence my friends will call it.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
And so being young and dipped in folly I fell in love with melancholy.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul; you haven’t experienced poetry.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
When a madman appears thoroughly sane, indeed, it is high time to put him in a straight jacket.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
All that we see and seem is but a dream within a dream.
EDGAR ALLAN POE