Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
EDGAR ALLAN POEThe scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls.
More Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it.
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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 which you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses.
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Sleep, those little slices of death – how I loathe them.
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If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul; you haven’t experienced poetry.
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If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul; you haven’t experienced poetry.
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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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Happiness is not to be found in knowledge, but in the acquisition of knowledge.
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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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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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All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire.
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There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion.
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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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Those who gossip with you will gossip about you.
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The world is a great ocean, upon which we encounter more tempestuous storms than calms.
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Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.
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A lie travels round the world while truth is putting her boots on.
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It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.
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Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
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Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries.
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Blood was its Avatar and its seal.
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Lord, help my poor soul.
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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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All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
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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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Leave my loneliness unbroken.
EDGAR ALLAN POE