Edgar Allan Poe#11 on top 500 poets
Edgar Allan Poe Quotes
''I was a child and she was a child,Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1845), U.S. poet, critic, short-story writer. first published in New York Tribune (Oct. 9, 1849). Annabel Lee, st. 2 (written 1845). The poem is addressed to Poe's 13-year-old cousin and wife, Virginia Clemm, who died in 1847 aged 24.
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love which was more than love --
I and my Annabel Lee.''
''The radiance was that of the full, setting, and blood-red moon, which now shone vividly through that once barely- discernible fissure,... extending from the roof of the building, in a zigzag direction, to the base. While I gazed, this fissure rapidly widened.''Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), U.S. author. The narrator, in "The Fall of the House of Usher," Burton's Gentleman's Magazine (1839). A metaphor for the defloration of the deceased Madeline Usher.
''It was many and many a year ago,Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), U.S. poet. Annabel Lee (l. 1-6). . . Complete Poems and Selected Essays [Edgar Allan Poe]. Richard Gray, ed. (1993) Everyman.
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.''
''Nor had I erred in my calculationsnor had I endured in vain. I at length felt that I was free.''Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), U.S. author. The narrator, in "The Pit and the Pendulum," The Gift (1842). Ratiocination propelled by the life instinct.
''She was a child and I was a child,Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), U.S. poet. Annabel Lee (l. 7-12). . . Complete Poems and Selected Essays [Edgar Allan Poe]. Richard Gray, ed. (1993) Everyman.
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love
I and my Annabel Lee
With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.''
''I exacted the most sacred oaths, that under no circumstances they would bury me until decomposition had so materially advanced as to render farther preservation impossible. And, even then, my mortal terrors would listen to no reasonwould accept no consolation. I entered into a series of elaborate precautions.''Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), U.S. author. The narrator, in "The Premature Burial," Dollar Newspaper (1844). The aborted confession, the major theme in Poe's writings, symbolized by burial alive.
''Their hotels are bad. Their pumpkin pies are delicious. Their poetry is not so good.''Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1845), U.S. poet, critic, short-story writer. quoted in Julian Symons, The Tell-Tale Heart: The Life and Works of Edgar Allan Poe, pt. 1, ch. 12 (1978). Broadway Journal (1845).
''TRUE!nervousvery, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?''Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), U.S. author. The narrator, in "The Tell-Tale Heart," The Pioneer (1843). Conflicted by occulted guilt, defensiveness and pride.
''By a route obscure and lonely,Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), U.S. poet. Dream-Land (l. 1-8). . . Complete Poems and Selected Essays [Edgar Allan Poe]. Richard Gray, ed. (1993) Everyman.
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an eidolon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of spaceout of time.''
''You have conquered, and I yield. Yet, henceforward art thou ... dead to the World, to Heaven and to Hope! In me didst thou existand, in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, how utterly thou has murdered thyself.''Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), U.S. author. The narrator's double, in "William Wilson," The Gift (1839). Murder as suicide.
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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 spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red ...
Of all who hail thy presence as the morning-
Of all to whom thine absence is the night-
The blotting utterly from out high heaven
The sacred sun- of all who, weeping, bless thee
Hourly for hope- for life- ah! above all,
For the resurrection of deep-buried faith
In Truth- in Virtue- in Humanity-
Of all who, on Despair's unhallowed bed
Lying down to die, have suddenly arisen