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If you are ever drowned or hung, be sure and make a note of your sensations.
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
Hung
Note
Notes
Sure
Ever
Make
Drowned
Sensations
More quotes by Edgar Allan Poe
The goodness of your true pun is in the direct ratio of its intolerability.
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To him, who still would gaze upon the glory of the summer sun, there comes, when that sun will from him part, a sullen hopelessness of heart.
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All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
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...If you do not take it up with you in some way, I shall be under the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel
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Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.
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The best chess-player in Christendom may be little more than the best player of chess but proficiency in whist implies capacity for success in all those more important undertakings where mind struggles with mind.
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The object, Truth, or the satisfaction of the intellect, and the object, Passion, or the excitement of the heart, are, although attainable, to a certain extent, in poetry, far more readily attainable in prose.
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A mystery, and a dream, should my early life seem.
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The pioneers and missionaries of religion have been the real cause of more trouble and war than all other classes of mankind.
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If a man deceives me once, shame on him if he deceives me twice, shame on me.
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The eye, like a shattered mirror, multiplies the images of sorrow
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That single thought is enough. The impulse increases to a wish, the wish to a desire, the desire to an uncontrollable longing, and the longing (to the deep regret and mortification of the speaker, and in defiance of all consequences,) is indulged.
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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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A fool, for example, thinks Shakespeare a great poet . . . yet the fool has never read Shakespeare.
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By a route obscure and lonely Haunted by ill angels only, Where an eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule -- From a wild, weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of SPACE, out of TIME.
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You call it hope-that fire of fire! It is but agony of desire.
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In the deepest slumber-no! In delirium-no! In a swoon-no! In death-no! even in the grave all is not lost.
Edgar Allan Poe
I intend to put up with nothing that I can put down.
Edgar Allan Poe
That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward.
Edgar Allan Poe
This maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
Edgar Allan Poe