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

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

There are moments when, even to the sober eye of Reason, the world of our sad humanity must assume the aspect of Hell.

To vilify a great man is the readiest way in which a little man can himself attain greatness.

He must be theory-mad beyond redemption who ... shall ... persist in attempting to reconcile the obstinate oils and waters of Poetry and Truth.

Stupidity is a talent for misconception.

Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.