A poem deserves its title only inasmuch as it excites, by elevating the soul.

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

If I venture to displace ... the microscopical speck of dust... on the point of my finger,... I have done a deed which shakes the Moon in her path, which causes the Sun to be no longer the Sun, and which alters forever the destiny of multitudinous myriads of stars.

But our love was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we Of many far wiser than we And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

Always keep a big bottle of booze at your side. If a bird starts talking nonsense to you in the middle of the night pour yourself a stiff drink.

And then there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the grave.

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.