A million candles have burned themselves out. Still I read on. (Montresor)

It is a happiness to wonder; -- it is a happiness to dream.

And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but overacuteness of the senses?

Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.

...If you do not take it up with you in some way, I shall be under the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel

Odors have an altogether peculiar force, in affecting us through association; a force differing essentially from that of objects addressing the touch, the taste, the sight or the hearing.

Fill with mingled cream and amber, I will drain that glass again. Such hilarious visions clamber Through the chamber of my brain — Quaintest thoughts — queerest fancies Come to life and fade away; What care I how time advances? I am drinking ale today.