And travellers, now, within that valley, Through the red-litten windows see Vast forms, that move fantastically To a discordant melody, While, like a ghastly rapid river, Through the pale door A hideous throng rush out forever And laugh — but smile no more.

Man is an animal that diddles, and there is no animal that diddles but man.

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.

By a route obscure and lonely Haunted by ill angels only, Where an eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule -- From a wild, weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of SPACE, out of TIME.

I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.

The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of Artist

In criticism I will be bold, and as sternly, absolutely just with friend and foe. From this purpose nothing shall turn me.