Quotes from Edgar Allan Poe

They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

We loved with a love that was more than love.

I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity

The writer who neglects punctuation, or mispunctuates, is liable to be misunderstood for the want of merely a comma, it often occurs that an axiom appears a paradox, or that a sarcasm is converted into a sermonoid.

The true genius shudders at incompleteness - and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be.

Invisible things are the only realities.

The goodness of the true pun is in the direct ratio of its intolerability.

Believe only half of what you see and nothing that you hear.

The true genius shudders at incompleteness — imperfection — and usually prefers silence to saying the something which is not everything that should be said.

I intend to put up with nothing that I can put down.

I do not suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it.

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 best things in life make you sweaty.

I have great faith in fools - self-confidence my friends will call it.

While the angels, all pallid and wan,Uprising, unveiling, affirmThat the play is the tragedy, "Man,"And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

Here once, through an alley Titanic,Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul—Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.

In the greenest of our valleysBy good angels tenanted,Once a fair and stately palace—Radiant palace—reared its head.

There are moments when even to the sober eye of reason, the world of our sad humanity may assume the semblance of Hell.

If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.

The true genius shudders at incompleteness — and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be.

And the fever called "Living"Is conquered at last.

Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone.

The skies they were ashen and sober;The leaves they were crispèd and sere—The leaves they were withering and sere:It was night in the lonesome OctoberOf my most immemorial year.

Every moment of the night Forever changing places And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces