Sleep, those little slices of death – how I loathe them.
EDGAR ALLAN POEAh, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
More Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
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Years of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
The rudiment of verse may, possibly, be found in the spondee.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
A lie travels round the world while truth is putting her boots on.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Leave my loneliness unbroken.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Imperceptibly the love of these discords grew upon me as my love of music grew stronger.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
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 -
All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
The eye, like a shattered mirror, multiplies the images of sorrow.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.
EDGAR ALLAN POE -
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.
EDGAR ALLAN POE







