112 quotes
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?
The Premature Burial (1844)
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
The Raven (1844)
Years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute.
A dark unfathom'd tide
Of interminable pride —
A mystery, and a dream,
Should my early life seem.
They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
Eleonora (1841)
And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
The Masque of the Red Death (1842)
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door.
The Raven (1844)
Man is an animal that diddles, and there is no animal that diddles but man.
Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.
The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether (1845)
Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.
The Philosophy of Composition (1846)
Thy grace, thy more than beauty,
Shall be an endless theme of praise,
And love — a simple duty.
To Frances S. Osgood (1845)
Hear the mellow wedding bells
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
It is with literature as with law or empire — an established name is an estate in tenure, or a throne in possession.
To observe attentively is to remember distinctly.
The Murders in the Rue Morgue (1841)
Convinced myself, I seek not to convince.
Berenice (1835)
In this boat we were in the habit of going on some of the maddest freaks in the world.
The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket (1838)
I now feel it impossible to realize the full extent of the misery which I endured.
The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket (1838)
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
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.
The Philosophy of Composition (1846)
The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.