Quote

Villains!' I shrieked. 'Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! Tear up the planks! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!

Edgar Allan Poe

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Edgar Allan Poe
Age: 40 †
Born: 1809
Born: January 19
Died: 1849
Died: October 7
Author
Crime Writer
Essayist
Journalist
Literary Critic
Literary Theorist
Lyricist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Poe
Edgar Poe
E. A. Poe
Heart
Beating
Confession
Tear
Dissemble
Villain
Shrieked
Admit
Planks
Guilt
Villains
Deeds
Hideous
Tears
Deed

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I have great faith in fools,— self-confidence my friends will call it.
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Whether people grow fat by joking, or whether there is something in fat itself which predisposes to a joke, I have never been quite able to determine.
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Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heartone of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man.
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All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
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In criticism I will be bold, and as sternly, absolutely just with friend and foe. From this purpose nothing shall turn me.
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Alas! for that accursed time They bore thee o'er the billow, From love to titled age and crime, And an unholy pillow! From me, and from our misty clime, Where weeps the silver willow!
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The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of Artist
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A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it.
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Decorum -- that bug-bear which deters so many from bliss until the opportunity for bliss has forever gone by.
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Most writers - poets in especial - prefer having it understood that they compose by a species of fine frenzy - an ecstatic intuition - and would positively shudder at letting the public take a peep behind the scenes.
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The realities of the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn,—not the material of my every-day existence--but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself.
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I have before suggested that a genuine blackguard is never without a pocket-handkerchief.
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There are certain themes of which the interest is all-absorbing, but which are too entirely horrible for the purposes of legitimate fiction.
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