“But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate;(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrowShall dawn upon him desolate!)And round about his home the gloryThat blushed and bloomed,Is but a dim-remembered storyOf the old time entombed.”

“I heed not that my earthly lot Hath - little of Earth in it -That years of love have been forgot In the hatred of a minute: -I mourn not that the desolate Are happier, sweet, than I,But that you sorrow for my fate Who am a passer by.”

“I seemed to be upon the verge of comprehension, without the power to comprehend as men, at time, find themselves upon the brink of rememberance, without being able, in the end, to remember.”

“Our talk had been serious and sober,But our thoughts they were palsied and sere -For we knew not the month was October,And we marked not the night of the year -(Ah, night of all nights in the year!)We noted not the dim lake of Auber -(Though once we had journeyed down here) -Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.”

“How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness?—from the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born.”

“Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.”

“When a madman appears thoroughly sane, indeed, it is high time to put him in a straight jacket.”