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.

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.

A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it.

In me didst thou exist-and, in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, how utterly thou hast murdered thyself.

It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.

The people have nothing to do with the laws but to obey them.

If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.