You call it hope-that fire of fire! It is but agony of desire.

Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore! Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.

A poem in my opinion, is opposed to a work of science by having for its immediate object, pleasure, not truth.

Read this and thought of you: Through joy and through sorrow, I wrote. Through hunger and through thirst, I wrote. Through good report and through ill report, I wrote. Through sunshine and through moonshine, I wrote. What I wrote it is unnecessary to say. ~ Edgar Allen Poe

Stupidity is a talent for misconception.

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

And I fell violently on my face.