Edgar Allan Poe

"We loved with a love that was more than love."

"We loved with a love that was more than love."

"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."

"From childhood's hour I have not been. As others were, I have not seen. As others saw, I could not awaken. My heart to joy at the same tone. And all I loved, I loved alone."

"It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream."

"Believe only half of what you see and nothing that you hear."

"To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary."

"Every poem should remind the reader that they are going to die."

"I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched."

"A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it."

"The idea of God, infinity, or spirit stands for the possible attempt at an impossible conception."

"Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words."

"By a route obscure and lonelyHaunted by ill angels only,Where an eidolon, named NIGHT,On a black throne reigns upright,I have reached these lands but newlyFrom an ultimate dim Thule --From a wild, weird clime that lieth, sublime,Out of SPACE, out of TIME."

"There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man."

"The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world."

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"

"It is more than probable that I am not understood; but I fear, indeed, that it is in no manner possible to convey to the mind of the merely general reader, an adequate idea of that nervous intensity of interest with which, in my case, the powers of meditation (not to speak technically) busied and buried themselves, in the contemplation of even the most ordinary objects of the universe."

"Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"

"The best things in life make you sweaty."

"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity."