Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" — Merely this, and nothing more

The rain came down upon my head - Unshelter'd. And the wind rendered me mad and deaf and blind.

Leave my loneliness unbroken

It will be found, in fact, that the ingenious are always fanciful, and the truly imaginative never otherwise than analytic.

We gave the Future to the winds, and slumbered tranquilly in the Present, weaving the dull world around us into dreams.

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

I hold that a long poem does not exist. I maintain that the phrase, "a long poem," is simply a flat contradiction in terms.