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A gentleman with a pug nose is a contradiction in terms.
All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
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.
Beauty, whatever kind, is in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
His eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
Man's real life is happy, chiefly because he is ever expecting that it soon will be so.
Music, when combined with a pleasurable idea, is poetry; music without the idea is simply music; the idea without the music is prose from its very definiteness.
Of puns it has been said that those who most dislike them are those who are least able to utter them.
Perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart--one of the indivisible, primary faculties or sentiments which give direction to man.
That stealeth ever on the ear of him
Who, musing, gazeth on the distance dim,
And sees the darkness coming as a cloud--
Is not its form--its voice--most palpable and loud?
That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem to be, or to be, when it suits him, a coward.
The goodness of the true pun is in direct ratio to its intolerability.
The ninety and nine are with dreams, content but the hope of the world made new, is the hundredth man who is grimly bent on making those dreams come true.
The Romans worshipped their standard; and the Roman standard happened to be an eagle. Our standard is only one tenth of an eagle,--a dollar, but we make all even by adoring it with tenfold devotion.
The world is a great ocean, upon which we encounter more tempestuous storms than calms.
There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm.
To vilify a great man is the readiest way in which a little man can himself attain greatness.
With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.
That holy dream--that hold dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.
- A Dream (st. 3) [Dreams]
The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass.
- Al Aaraaf (pt. II, l. 124) [Sound]
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;--
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
- Annabel Lee [Books (First Lines)]
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime
Out of Space--out of Time.
- Dreamland (l. 7) [Time]
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece
And the grandeur that was Rome.
- Helen [Italy]
Come! let the burial rite be read--
The funeral song be sung!--
An anthem for the queenliest dead
That ever died so young--
A dirge for her, the doubly dead
In that she died so young.
- Lenore (st. 1) [Death]
A Quixotic sense of the honorable--of the chivalrous.
- Letter to Mrs. Whitman [Honor]
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