In me didst thou exist-and, in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, how utterly thou hast murdered thyself.

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.

I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep!

The best things in life make you sweaty.

A mystery, and a dream, should my early life seem.

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.

To be thoroughly conversant with Man’s heart, is to take our final lesson in the iron-clasped volume of Despair