In [chess], where the pieces have different and “”bizarre”” motions, with various and variable values, what is only complex, is mistaken (a not unusual error) for what is profound.

It was many and many a year ago,In a kingdom by the sea,That a maiden there lived whom you may knowBy the name of ANNABEL LEE;And this maiden she lived with no other thoughtThan to...

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...

Chi sogna di giorno conosce molte cose che sfuggono a chi sogna solo di notte.

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...

In criticism, I will be bold, and as sternly, absolutely just with friend and foe. From this purpose nothing shall turn me.

I have great faith in fools; self-confidence my friends call it.

There are moments when, even to the sober eye of Reason, the world of our sad humanity must assume the aspect of Hell

If we cannot comprehend God in his visible works, how then in his inconceivable thoughts, that call the works into being?

I have been happy, though in a dream.I have been happy-and I love the theme:Dreams! in their vivid colouring of lifeAs in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife

In our endeavors to recall to memory something long forgotten, we often find ourselves upon the very verge of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember.

I continued, as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation.

Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.

There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!

Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence– whether much that is glorious– whether all that is profound– does not spring from...

To be thoroughly conversant with Man’s heart, is to take our final lesson in the iron-clasped volume of Despair

The principle of vis inertiae (…) seems to be identical in physics and metaphysics. It is not more true in the former, that a large body is with more difficulty set in motion than a...

Thank Heaven! the crisis –The danger, is past, and the lingering illness, is over at last –, and the fever called ”Living” is conquered at last.

We now demand the light artillery of the intellect; we need the curt, the condensed, the pointed, the readily diffused — in place of the verbose, the detailed, the voluminous, the inaccessible. On the other...

The best things in life make you sweaty.

With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.

Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life, As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife Of semblance with reality, which brings To the delirious eye, more lovely things Of Paradise and Love- and all our own!...

Nemo impune me lacessit!!

I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad?

A gentleman with a pug nose is a contradiction in terms.

The plots of God are perfect. The Universe is a plot of God.

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in waking, to find that they...

I saw thee once – only once – years ago:I must not say how many – but not many.It was a July midnight; and from outA full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul, soaring,Sought a...

The eye, like a shattered mirror, multiplies the images of sorrow.

Deep in earth my love is lyingAnd I must weep alone.

I have great faith in fools; My friends call it self-confidence.

They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

Lord help my poor soul.

There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion.

The best chess-player in Christendom may be little more than the best player of chess; but proficiency in whist implies capacity for success in all those more important undertakings where mind struggles with mind.

O, Times! O, Manners! It is my opinionThat you are changing sadly your dominion I mean the reign of manners hath long ceased,For men have none at all, or bad at least;And as for times,...

The writer who neglects punctuation, or mispunctuates, is liable to be misunderstood for the want of merely a comma, it often occurs that an axiom appears a paradox, or that a sarcasm is converted into...

I never can hear a crowd of people singing and gesticulating, all together, at an Italian opera, without fancying myself at Athens, listening to that particular tragedy, by Sophocles, in which he introduces a full...

And all I loved, I loved alone.

Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.

I intend to put up with nothing that I can put down.”[Letter to J. Beauchamp Jones, August 8, 1839]

Ah, Death, the spectre which sate at all feasts! How often, Monos, did we lose ourselves in speculations upon its nature! How mysteriously did it act as a check to human bliss – saying unto...

Fill with mingled cream and amber, I will drain that glass again.Such hilarious visions clamber Through the chamber of my brain —Quaintest thoughts — queerest fancies Come to life and fade away;What care I how...

years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute.

I am ugly.

I have no faith in human perfectibility. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active – not more happy – nor more wise, than he...

I have no words — alas! — to tellThe loveliness of loving well!

That single thought is enough. The impulse increases to a wish, the wish to a desire, the desire to an uncontrollable longing, and the longing (to the deep regret and mortification of the speaker, and...

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 today, or the agonies which are...