35 Best Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.
Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
Never to suffer would never to have been blessed.
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
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Believe only half of what you see and nothing that you hear.
All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
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I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.
The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.
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I have great faith in fools – self-confidence my friends will call it.
A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it.
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There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion.
With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.
Edgar Allan Poe Love Quotes
And so being young and dipped in folly I fell in love with melancholy.
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.
Years of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute.
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The best things in life make you sweaty.
Invisible things are the only realities.
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I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.
Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind
There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told.
That which you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses.
I dread the events of the future, not in themselves but in their results.
Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.
If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
There are moments when even to the sober eye of reason, the world of our sad humanity may assume the semblance of Hell.
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.
Now this is the point. You fancy me a mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded…
The true genius shudders at incompleteness — imperfection — and usually prefers silence to saying the something which is not everything that should be said.
I have no faith in human perfectibility. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active – not more happy – nor more wise, than he was 6000 years ago.
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.
A Dream Within A Dream: Poem By Edgar Allan Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
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.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
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