Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary.
Always keep a big bottle of booze at your side. If a bird starts talking nonsense to you in the middle of the night pour yourself a stiff drink.
The eye, like a shattered mirror, multiplies the images of sorrow
How many good books suffer neglect through the inefficiency of their beginnings!
All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
To die laughing must be the most glorious of all glorious deaths!
To vilify a great man is the readiest way in which a little man can himself attain greatness.
And so, being young and dipt in folly, I fell in love with melancholy.
Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.
I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.
If you run out of ideas follow the road; you'll get there
I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.
Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
Every poem should remind the reader that they are going to die.
There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told.
The world is a great ocean, upon which we encounter more tempestuous storms than calms.
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Reality is the #1 cause of insanity among those who are in contact with it
Invisible things are the only realities.
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 disease of thought– from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.
Even in the grave, all is not lost.
Art is to look at not to criticize.
I have great faith in fools,— self-confidence my friends will call it.
The plots of God are perfect. The Universe is a plot of God.
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