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"Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
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"That men, who might have tower'd in the vanOf all the congregated world, to fanAnd winnow from the coming step of timeAll chaff of custom, wipe away all slimeLeft by men-slugs and human serpentry,Have been content to let occasion die,Whilst they did sleep in love's Elysium."
"My love is a winter's mistgently dissolvingthrough the windowat the nape of your neck."
"In the endit is wordspoetry. sunsetssomeone's deep blue silk voice.mountain scents.someone's smile.eyes. that we haveno defenses against."
"Good poetry does not exist merely for the sake of itself, but rather, is a byproduct of yearning and growth; great poetry canonizes that yearning for the growth of others."
"Poems can getsleepless tooand becomethe loneliest thingin the universe."
"A poet is not an inventor. A poet is a player that plays with words on the field of human imagination to excite a reader's mind with the colors of emotion."
"Whatever you get out of poetry - take it. take it. take it. Words are better off felt than understood."
"For all I can really do is stand here in September's rain savoring, soaking it all in slipping..and simply holding on to poetry for dear life."
"I do think that poetry is important though, if you don't strive at it, if you don't fill it full of stars and falseness."
Explore more quotes by Edgar Allan Poe
"And thus, as a closer and still closer intimacy admitted me more unreservedly into recesses if his spirit, the more bitterly did I perceive the futility of all attempt at cheering a mind from which darkness, as if an inherent positive quality, poured forth upon all objects of the moral and physical universe in one unceasing radiation of gloom."
"The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame."
"Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censerSwung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor."Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee--Respite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"Quothe the Raven, "Nevermore."
"How had I deserved to be so blessed by such confessions? -how had I deserved to be so cursed with the removal of my beloved in the hour of her making them, But upon this subject I cannot bear to dilate."
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