Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
EDGAR ALLAN POEThe depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not upon the mountain-tops where she is found.
More Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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From childhood’s hour I have not been. As others were, I have not seen. As others saw, I could not awaken. My heart to joy at the same tone. And all I loved, I loved alone.
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I have great faith in fools – self-confidence my friends will call it.
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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.
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That which you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses.
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All that we see and seem is but a dream within a dream.
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And all I loved, I loved alone.
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When a madman appears thoroughly sane, indeed, it is high time to put him in a straight jacket.
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I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.
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Mysteries force a man to think, and so injure his health.
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I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.
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Imperceptibly the love of these discords grew upon me as my love of music grew stronger.
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Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.
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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.
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I dread the events of the future, not in themselves but in their results.
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Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made.
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Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
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The world is a great ocean, upon which we encounter more tempestuous storms than calms.
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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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Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
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Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore.
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Never to suffer would never to have been blessed.
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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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Invisible things are the only realities.
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I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.
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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 no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion.
EDGAR ALLAN POE