Quote

If I could dwell where Israfel hath dwelt and he where I he might not sing so wildly well a mortal melody while a bolder note then this might swell from my lyre in the sky.

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
Melody
Bolder
Mortals
Dwelt
Notes
Swell
Sky
Wildly
Sing
Dwell
Wells
Mortal
Might
Note
Well
Hath
Lyre

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The past is a pebble in my shoe.
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Over the Mountains Of the Moon, Down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride, The shade replied,- If you seek for Eldorado.
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It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.
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Me volví loco, con largos intervalos de horrible cordura.
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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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Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors ... on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be revealed.
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The goodness of your true pun is in the direct ratio of its intolerability.
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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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When, indeed, men speak of Beauty, they mean, precisely, not a quality, as is supposed, but an effect - they refer, in short, just to that intense and pure elevation of soul - not of intellect, or of heart.
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The people have nothing to do with the laws but to obey them.
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And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting...
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And so, being young and dipt in folly, I fell in love with melancholy.
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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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A lie travels round the world while truth is putting her boots on.
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Men have called me mad but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence– whether much that is glorious– whether all that is profound– does not spring from disease of thought– from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.
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It is with literature as with law or empire - an established name is an estate in tenure, or a throne in possession.
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And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — This it is, and nothing more.
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Prophet! said I, thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore. Quoth the Raven, Nevermor
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If we cannot comprehend God in his visible works, how then in his inconceivable thoughts, that call the works into being?
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You are not wrong who deem That my days have been a dream Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
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