Edgar Allan Poe Quotes

As a poet and as a mathematician, he would reason well; as a mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned at all.

The glory that was Greece.

There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censerSwung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.Wretch, I cried, thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent...

Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart - one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give directi...

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 d...

I do believe God gave me a spark of genius, but he quenched it in misery.

A strong argument for the religion of Christ is this - that offences against Charity are about the only ones which men on their death-beds can be made - not to understand - but to feel - as crime.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night.

I was cautious in what I said before the young lady; for I could not be sure that she was sane; and, in fact, there was a certain restless brilliancy about her eyes that half led me to imagine she was...

All that we see and seem is but a dream within a dream.

In a night, or in a day,In a vision, or in none,Is it therefore the less gone?

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...

Depend upon it, after all, Thomas, Literature is the most noble of professions. In fact, it is about the only one fit for a man. For my own part, there is no seducing me from the path.

Even in the grave, all is not lost.

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 o...

Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.

I seemed to be upon the verge of comprehension, without the power to comprehend as men, at time, find themselves upon the brink of rememberance, without being able, in the end, to remember.

If you do not take it up with you in some way, I shall be under the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel

And the Raven never flitting Still is sitting still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas Just above my chamber door And his eyes have all the seeming Of a demon's that is dreaming And the lamp...