Edgar Allan Poe
Edgar Allan Poe
Edgar Allan Poewas an American writer, editor, and literary critic. Poe is best known for his poetry and short stories, particularly his tales of mystery and the macabre. He is widely regarded as a central figure of Romanticism in the United States and American literature as a whole, and he was one of the country's earliest practitioners of the short story. Poe is generally considered the inventor of the detective fiction genre and is further credited with contributing to the...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth19 January 1809
CityBoston, MA
CountryUnited States of America
A poem in my opinion, is opposed to a work of science by having for its immediate object, pleasure, not truth.
The higher powers of the reflective intellect are more decidedly and more usefully tasked by the unostentatious game of draughts than by all the elaborate frivolity of chess.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As if some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--Only this and nothing more.
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain, but, once conceived, it haunted me day and night.
Stupidity is a talent for misconception.
Man's real life is happy, chiefly because he is ever expecting that it soon will be so.
There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors, and looking them piteously in the eyes - die with despair of heart and convulsion of throat, on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be revealed. Now and then, alas, the conscience of man takes up a burden so heavy in horror that it can be thrown down only into the grave. And thus the essence of all crime is undivulged.
The reproduction of what the senses perceive in nature through the veil of the soul.
I intend to put up with nothing that I can put down.
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.
Invisible things are the only realities.
The result of law inviolate is perfection–right–negative happiness. The result of law violate is imperfection, wrong, positive pain.
Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day; or the agonies which are have their origins in ecstasies which might have been.
It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.