In reading some books we occupy ourselves chiefly with the thoughts of the author; in perusing others, exclusively with our own. — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
“Did there not cross your mind some thought of the physical power of words? Is not every word an impulse on the… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
If we cannot comprehend God in his visible works, how then in his inconceivable thoughts, that call the works into being? — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
My next thought concerned the choice of an impression, or effect, to be conveyed: and here I may as well observe that,… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
It is the curse of a certain order of mind, that it can never rest satisfied with the consciousness of its ability… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
“And here, in thought, to thee- In thought that can alone, Ascend thy empire and so be A partner of thy throne, By winged Fantasy, My embassy is given, Till secrecy shall knowledge be In the environs of Heaven.” — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share
No thinking being lives who, at some luminous point of his life of thought, has not felt himself lost amid the surges… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
That single thought is enough. The impulse increases to a wish, the wish to a desire, the desire to an uncontrollable longing,… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
After reading all that has been written, and after thinking all that can be thought, on the topics of God and the… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
Philosophers have often held dispute As to the seat of thought in man and brute For that the power of thought attends… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
“Shadows of Shadows passing... It is now 1831... and as always, I am absorbed with a delicate thought. It is how poetry… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
“Very suddenly there came back to my soul motion and sound—the tumultuous motion of the heart, and, in my ears, the sound… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
“From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
There is no passion in nature so demoniacally impatient, as that of him who, shuddering upon the edge of a precipice, thus meditates a… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
To vilify a great man is the readiest way in which a little man can himself attain greatness. — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
“A skillful literary artist has constructed a tale. If wise, he has not fashioned his thoughts to accommodate his incidents; but having conceived, with deliberate care, a certain unique or single effect to be wrought out, he then invents as may best aid him in establishing this preconceived effect. If his very initial sentence tend not to the outbringing of… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share
“During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share
Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things that escape those who dream only at night. — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
“I have said that the sole effect of my somewhat childish experiment—that of looking down within the tarn—had been to deepen the first singular impression. There can be no doubt that the consciousness of the rapid increase of my superstition—for why should I not so term it?—served mainly to accelerate the increase itself. Such, I have long known, is the… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share
And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams Are where thy dark eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams-- In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams! — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share
“Other friends have flown before — On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.” Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.” — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
“To the right and left, as far as the eye could reach, there lay outstretched, like ramparts of the world, lines of horridly black… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors ... on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer… — Edgar Allan Poe Copy Share Image
