We loved with a love that was more than love.

And so, being young and dipt in folly, I fell in love with melancholy.

The death of a beautiful woman, is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world.

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting...

It is more than probable that I am not understood; but I fear, indeed, that it is in no manner possible to convey to the mind of the merely general reader, an adequate idea of that nervous intensity of interest with which, in my case, the powers of meditation (not to speak technically) busied and buried themselves, in the contemplation of even the most ordinary objects of the universe.

It is a happiness to wonder; -- it is a happiness to dream.

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor, Shall be lifted -- Nevermore!