All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting.
There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told.
To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.
Believe nothing you hear, and only one-half that you see.
Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
I have great faith in fools; self-confidence, my friends call it.
It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.
The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where one ends, and where the other begins?
To die laughing must be the most glorious of all deaths!
Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.
The true genius shudders at incompleteness.
I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.
Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
Never to suffer would never to have been blessed.
The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.
Sleep, those little slices of death; oh how I loathe them.
We loved with a love that was more than love.
The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls.
I remained too much inside my head, and ended up losing my mind.
There is no beauty without some strangeness.
Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?
That which you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses.
All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
The best things in life make you sweaty.
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 was 6,000 years ago.
We loved each other with a love that was more than love – I and my Annabel Lee.
Deep in earth my love is lying, and I must weep alone.
There is no beauty without some strangeness.
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
I remained too much inside my head, and ended up losing my mind.
The boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where one ends, and the other begins?
It is a happiness to wonder; it is a happiness to dream.
Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence.
The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.
Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
I have great faith in fools; self-confidence, my friends call it.
Sleep, those little slices of death; oh how I loathe them.
I remained too much inside my head, and ended up losing my mind.
That which you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses.
They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.
To die laughing must be the most glorious of all glorious deaths!
Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.
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