Edgar Allan Poe

The teeth!__he teeth!__hey were here, and there, and everywhere, and visibly and palpably before me; long, narrow, and excessively white, with the pale lips writhing about them, as in the very moment of their first terrible development.

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.

The grandeur that was Rome.

In efforts to soar above our nature we invariably fall below it.

Of puns it has been said that those most dislike who are least able to utter them.

With me poetry has not been a purpose but a passion.

Once upon a midnight dreary while I pondered weak and weary Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.

On desperate seas long wont to roam Thy hyacinth hair they classic face Thy naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.

Man's real life is happy chiefly because he is ever expecting that it soon will be so.

The glory that was Greece.

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 lamplight o'er him streaming Throws his shadow on the floor And my soul from out that shadow That lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore.

Never to suffer would have been never to have been blessed.

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

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?

Let him talk," said Dupin, who had not thought it necessary to reply. "Let him discourse; it will ease his conscience, I a satisfied with having defeated him in his own castle.

Fill with mingled cream and amber, I will drain that glass again.Such hilarious visions clamber Through the chamber of my brain __uaintest thoughts _ queerest fancies Come to life and fade away;What care I how time advances? I am drinking ale today.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.Eagerly I wished the morrow; _ vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow _ sorrow for the lost Lenore.

But, for myself, the Earth__ records had taught me to look for widest ruin as the price of highest civilization.