Quote

The enormous multiplication of books in every branch of knowledge is one of the greatest evils of this age, since it presents one of the most serious obstacles to the acquisition of correct information by throwing in the reader's way piles of lumber in which he must painfully grope for the scraps of useful matter, peradventure interspersed.

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
Knowledge
Enormous
Branch
Grope
Evil
Reader
Presents
Lumber
Book
Serious
Evils
Scraps
Matter
Information
Throwing
Piles
Must
Greatest
Branches
Multiplication
Every
Since
Correct
Painfully
Way
Books
Obstacles
Scrap
Age
Useful
Acquisition
Interspersed

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Man is an animal that diddles, and there is no animal that diddles but man.
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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.
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The result of law inviolate is perfection–right–negative happiness. The result of law violate is imperfection, wrong, positive pain.
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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.'
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Yet we met and fate bound us together at the alter,and I never spoke of passion nor thought of love. She, however shunned society, and, attaching herself to me alone rendered me happy. It is a happiness to wonder it is a happiness to dream.
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There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told.
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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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The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame.
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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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And all I loved, I loved alone.
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If the propositions of this Discourse are tenable, the state of progressive collapse is precisely that state in which alone we are warranted in considering All Things.
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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.
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Mysteries force a man to think, and so injure his health.
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When a madman appears thoroughly sane, indeed, it is high time to put him in a straight jacket.
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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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Tell me truly, I implore-- Is there-- is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!
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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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To vilify a great man is the readiest way in which a little man can himself attain greatness.
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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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Even in the grave, all is not lost.
Edgar Allan Poe