“And so being young and dipped in folly I fell in love with melancholy.”

“And I fell violently on my face.”

“...that fitful strain of melancholy which will ever be found inseperable from the perfection of the beautiful.”

“I am SHADOW, and my dwelling is near to theCatacombs of Ptolemais, and hard by those dim plains of Helusionwhich border upon the foul Charonian canal." And then did we, theseven, start from our seats in horror, and stand trembling, andshuddering, and aghast, for the tones in the voice of the shadow werenot the tones of any one being, but of a multitude of beings, and,varying in their cadences from syllable to syllable fell duskly uponour ears in the well-remembered and familiar accents of many thousanddeparted friends.”

“It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture –a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees – very gradually –I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.”

“She was a maiden of rarest beauty, and not more lovely than full of glee. And evil was the hour when she saw, and loved, and wedded the painter. He, passionate, studious, austere, and having already a bride in his Art; she a maiden of rarest beauty, and not more lovely than full of glee; all light and smiles, and frolicsome as the young fawn; loving and cherishing all things; hating only the Art which was her rival;”

“I was cautious in what I said before the young lady; for I could not be sure that she was sane; and, in fact, there was a certain restless brilliancy about her eyes that half led me to imagine she was not.”