Just as the Intellect concerns itself with Truth, so Taste informs us of the Beautiful while the Moral Sense is regardful of Duty. Of this latter, while Conscience teaches the obligation, and Reason the expediency, Taste contents herself with displaying the charms: – waging war upon Vice solely on the ground of her deformity – her disproportion – her animosity to the fitting, to the appropriate, to the harmonious – in a word, to Beauty.

— Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe Quotes

As for Progress it was at one time quite a nuisance, but it never progressed.

— Edgar Allan Poe

How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness? – from the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.

— Edgar Allan Poe

Now, then, did my spirit fully and freely burn with more than all the fires of her own.

— Edgar Allan Poe

He is cool- cool as a cucumber.

— Edgar Allan Poe

I never knew any one so keenly alive to a joke as the king was.

— Edgar Allan Poe

Then we sallied forth into the streets arm in arm, continuing the topics of the day, or roaming far and wide until a late hour, seeking, amid the wild lights and shadows of the populous city, that infinity of mental excitement which quiet observation can afford.

— Edgar Allan Poe

If the author did not deliberately propose to himself a suggestive indefinitiveness of meaning with the view of bringing about a definitiveness of vague and therefore of spiritual effect- this, at least, arose from the silent analytical promptings of that poetic genius which, in its supreme development, embodies all orders of intellectual capacity.

— Edgar Allan Poe

That she loved me I should not have doubted; and I might have been easily aware that, in a bosom such as hers, love would have regained no ordinary passion. But in death only was I fully impressed with the strength of her affection.

— Edgar Allan Poe

Let me call myself, for the present, Willam Wilson.

— Edgar Allan Poe

It might have been midnight, or perhaps earlier, or later, for I had taken no note of time, when a sob, low, gentle, but very distinct, startled me from my revery. – I felt that it came from the bed of ebony – the bed of death. I listened in an agony of superstitious terror – but there was no repetition of the sound. I strained my vision to detect any motion in the corpse – but there was not the slightest perceptible.

— Edgar Allan Poe

I loathed her with a hatred belonging more to demon than to man.

— Edgar Allan Poe

I paid Poe nothing, since he was on staff. I should think you’d want to do better than that.

— Edgar Allan Poe

We might say that from the impious love of liberty has been born a new tyranny – the tyranny of fools – which, in its insensible ferocity, resembles the idol of Juggernaut.

— Edgar Allan Poe

That man, as a race, should not become extinct, I saw that he must be born again.

— Edgar Allan Poe

Yet what business had I with hope?

— Edgar Allan Poe

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...

— Edgar Allan Poe

Haunted by ill angels only.

— Edgar Allan Poe

My visions were of shipwreck and famine; of death or captivity among barbarian hordes; of a lifetime dragged out in sorrow and tears, upon some gray and desolate rock, in an ocean unapproachable and unknown.

— Edgar Allan Poe

When given bad news, most women of my station can afford to slump onto their divans, their china cups slipping from their fingers to the carpet, their hair falling prettily from its pins, their fourteen starched petticoats compacting with a plush crunch. I am not one of them.

— Edgar Allan Poe

But my disease grew upon me – for what disease is like Alcohol! – and at length even Pluto, who was now becoming old, and consequently somewhat peevish – even Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill temper.

— Edgar Allan Poe
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