Quote

And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams Are where thy dark eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams-- In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams!

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
Dream
Footsteps
Love
Glances
Footstep
Streams
Gleams
Eternal
Nightly
Dreams
Ethereal
Days
Dances
Dark
Trance
Eye
Gleam

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One half of the pleasure experienced at a theatre arises from the spectator's sympathy with the rest of the audience, and, especially from his belief in their sympathy with him.
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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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Mysteries force a man to think, and so injure his health.
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A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
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Lord help my poor soul.
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As the strong man exults in his physical ability, delighting in such exercises as call his muscles into action, so glories the analyst in that moral activity which disentangles.
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I found him well educated, with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misanthropy, and subject to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm and melancholy.
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No murmur arose from its bed, and so gently it wandered along, that the pearly pebbles upon which we loved to gaze, far down within its bosom, stirred not at all, but lay in a motionless content, each in its own old station, shining on gloriously forever.
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I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.
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For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.
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I have been happy, though in a dream. I have been happy-and I love the theme: Dreams! in their vivid colouring of life As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
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In death - no! even in the grave all is not lost. Else there is no immortality for man. Arousing from the most profound slumbers, we break the gossamer web of some dream. Yet in a second afterward, (so frail may that web have been) we remember not that we have dreamed.
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The plots of God are perfect. The Universe is a plot of God.
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The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.
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Thank Heaven! The crisis /The danger is past, and the lingering illness, is over at last /, and the fever called ''Living'' is conquered at last.
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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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Sound loves to revel in a summer night.
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A strong argument for the religion of Christ is this - that offences against Charity are about the only ones which men on their death-beds can be made - not to understand - but to feel - as crime.
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Me volví loco, con largos intervalos de horrible cordura.
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The reproduction of what the senses perceive in nature through the veil of the soul.
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