Sleep, those little slices of death — how I loathe them.

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.

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you"— here I opened wide the door; — Darkness there, and nothing more.

Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of the truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.

And I fell violently on my face.

The idea of God, infinity, or spirit stands for the possible attempt at an impossible conception.

Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries