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Literature is the most noble of professions. In fact, it is about the only one fit for a man.
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
Literature
Fact
Facts
Men
Professions
Thoughtful
Profession
Noble
Fit
More quotes by Edgar Allan Poe
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.
Edgar Allan Poe
The pioneers and missionaries of religion have been the real cause of more trouble and war than all other classes of mankind.
Edgar Allan Poe
In me didst thou exist-and, in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, how utterly thou hast murdered thyself.
Edgar Allan Poe
I was cautious in what I said before the young lady for I could not be sure that she was sane and, in fact, there was a certain restless brilliancy about her eyes that half led me to imagine she was not.
Edgar Allan Poe
The rain came down upon my head - Unshelter'd. And the wind rendered me mad and deaf and blind.
Edgar Allan Poe
The fever called living Is conquer'd at last.
Edgar Allan Poe
In the marginalia ... we talk only to ourselves we therefore talk freshly - boldly - originally - with abandonment - without conceit.
Edgar Allan Poe
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.
Edgar Allan Poe
The death then of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world, and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover.
Edgar Allan Poe
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.
Edgar Allan Poe
There is then no analogy whatever between the operations of the Chess-Player, and those of the calculating machine of Mr. Babbage , and if we choose to call the former a pure machine we must be prepared to admit that it is, beyond all comparison, the most wonderful of the inventions of mankind.
Edgar Allan Poe
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.
Edgar Allan Poe
the truth is, I am heartily sick of this life & of the nineteenth century in general. (I am convinced that every thing is going wrong.)
Edgar Allan Poe
And so, being young and dipt in folly, I fell in love with melancholy.
Edgar Allan Poe
There is no beauty without some strangeness
Edgar Allan Poe
Thou wouldst be loved? - then let thy heart From its present pathway part not! Being everything which now thou art, Be nothing which thou art not. So with the world thy gentle ways, Thy grace, thy more than beauty, Shall be an endless theme of praise, And love - a simple duty.
Edgar Allan Poe
Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term Art, I should call it 'the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul.' The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of 'Artist.'
Edgar Allan Poe
Happiness is not to be found in knowledge, but in the acquisition of knowledge
Edgar Allan Poe
I could have clasped the red walls to my bosom as a garment of eternal peace. Death, I said, any death but that of the pit! Fool! might I have not known that into the pit it was the object of the burning iron to urge me?
Edgar Allan Poe
Scorching my seared heart with a pain, not hell shall make me fear again.
Edgar Allan Poe
