Edgar Allan Poe Quotes About Life
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The fever called "living" Is conquer'd at last.
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I have great faith in fools,— self-confidence my friends will call it.
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Man's real life is happy, chiefly because he is ever expecting that it soon will be so.
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They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
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All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
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All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
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The best things in life make you sweaty.
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And so, being young and dipt in folly, I fell in love with melancholy.
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Years of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute.
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I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
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Finally on Sunday morning, October 7, 1849, "He became quiet and seemed to rest for a short time. Then, gently, moving his head," he said, "Lord help my poor soul." As he had lived so he died-in great misery and tragedy.
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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.
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The death then of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world, and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover.
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Thou wouldst be loved? - then let thy heart From its present pathway part not! Being everything which now thou art, Be nothing which thou art not. So with the world thy gentle ways, Thy grace, thy more than beauty, Shall be an endless theme of praise, And love - a simple duty.
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I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.
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In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast On things around him with a ray Turned back upon the past? That holy dream- that holy dream, While all the world were chiding, Hath cheered me as a lovely beam A lonely spirit guiding. What though that light, thro' storm and night, So trembled from afar- What could there be more purely bright In Truth's day-star?
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The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?
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