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Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever! Let the bell toll!-a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear?-weep now or nevermore!
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
Soul
Golden
Bell
Thou
Floats
Rivers
Weep
Nevermore
Tears
Bowl
Saintly
Broken
Bowls
Flown
Forever
Tear
Toll
Guy
Bells
Tolls
Spirit
River
Hast
More quotes by Edgar Allan Poe
If any ambitious man have a fancy to revolutionize, at one effort, the universal world of human thought, human opinion, and human sentiment.
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I dread the events of the future, not in themselves but in their results.
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Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly, I wished the morrow - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Leonore - For the rare and radiant maiden who the angels name Lenore - Nameless here for evermore.
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I am actuated by an ambition which I believe to be an honourable one the ambition of serving the great cause of truth, while endeavouring to forward the literature of the country.
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The people have nothing to do with the laws but to obey them.
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In [chess], where the pieces have different and bizarre motions, with various and variable values, what is only complex, is mistaken (a not unusual error) for what is profound
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Lord help my poor soul.
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I intend to put up with nothing that I can put down.
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Every moment of the night Forever changing places And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces
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Dreams are the eraser dust I blow off my page. They fade into the emptiness, another dark gray day. Dreams are only memories of the plans I had back then. Dreams are eraser dust and now I use a pen.
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I have before suggested that a genuine blackguard is never without a pocket-handkerchief.
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I have great faith in fools,— self-confidence my friends will call it.
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Man is an animal that diddles, and there is no animal that diddles but man.
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In reading some books we occupy ourselves chiefly with the thoughts of the author in perusing others, exclusively with our own.
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In the marginalia ... we talk only to ourselves we therefore talk freshly - boldly - originally - with abandonment - without conceit.
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Me volví loco, con largos intervalos de horrible cordura.
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The world is a great ocean, upon which we encounter more tempestuous storms than calms.
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With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.
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For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down in words, with even more distinctness than that with which I conceived it.
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