Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger, portion of truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.
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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And I fell violently on my face.
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That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward.
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That which you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses.
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The ninety and nine are with dreams, content, but the hope of the world made new, is the hundredth man who is grimly bent on making those dreams come true.
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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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The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls.
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There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm.
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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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Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore.
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Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
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Yet mad I am not and very surely do I not dream.
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If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul; you haven’t experienced poetry.
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That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.
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The true genius shudders at incompleteness – imperfection – and usually prefers silence to saying the something which is not everything that should be said.
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Invisible things are the only realities.
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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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Even in the grave, all is not lost.
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Lord, help my poor soul.
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I am a writer. Therefore, I am not sane.
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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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Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries.
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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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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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Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.
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All that we see and seem is but a dream within a dream.
EDGAR ALLAN POE