- A poem deserves its title only inasmuch as it excites, by elevating the soul.
- A strong argument for the religion of Christ is this — that offences against Charity are about the only ones which men on their death-beds can be made, not to understand, but to feel, as crime.
- A woman being never at a loss... the devil always sticks by them.
- A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
- After reading all that has been written, and after thinking all that can be thought on the topics of God and the soul, the man who has a right to say that he thinks at all, will find himself face to face with the conclusion that, on these topics, the most profound thought is that which can be the least easily distinguished from the most superficial sentiment.
- Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
- All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
- All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream.
- And all I loved, I loved alone.
- And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
- And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted — nevermore!
- And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain, Thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.
- And when, amid no earthly moans, down, down that town shall settle hence, hell, rising from a thousand thrones, shall do it reverence.
- Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.
- 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.
- Convinced myself, I seek not to convince.
- Decorum -- that bug-bear which deters so many from bliss until the opportunity for bliss has forever gone by.
- Depend upon it, after all, Thomas, Literature is the most noble of professions. In fact, it is about the only one fit for a man. For my own part, there is no seducing me from the path.
- Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
