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Edgar Allan Poe Quote - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Edgar Allan Poe

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False hope is nicer than no hope at all.
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Lord, help my poor soul.
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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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There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion.
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I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.
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All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
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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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Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
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And all I loved, I loved alone.
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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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If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul; you haven’t experienced poetry.
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In efforts to soar above our nature, we invariably fall below it.
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The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls.
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Leave my loneliness unbroken.
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The past is a pebble in my shoe.
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I have no faith in human perfectibility. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active – not more happy – nor more wise, than he was 6000 years ago.
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