During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was - but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit.

I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain, but, once conceived, it haunted me day and night.

Leave my loneliness unbroken

Literature is the most noble of professions. In fact, it is about the only one fit for a man.

I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect - in terror.

It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.