A fool, for example, thinks Shakespeare a great poet . . . yet the fool has never read Shakespeare.

Never to suffer would have been never to have been blessed.

Me volví loco, con largos intervalos de horrible cordura.

Invisible things are the only realities.

Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,- Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As if some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--Only this and nothing more.