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It is with literature as with law or empire – an established name is an estate in tenure, or a throne in possession.

Letter to Mr. B

It is clear that a poem may be improperly brief. Undue brevity degenerates into mere epigrammatism. A very short poem, while now and then producing a brilliant or vivid, never produces a profound or enduring, effect. There must be the steady pressing down of the stamp upon the wax.

The Poetic Principle

Literature is the most noble of professions. In fact, it is about the only one fit for a man. For my own part, there is no seducing me from the path.

Letter to Frederick W. Thomas

Nothing is more clear than that every plot, worth the name, must be elaborated to its dénouement before any thing be attempted with the pen. It is only with the dénouement constantly in view that we can give a plot its indispensable air of consequence, or causation, by making the incidents, and especially the tone at all points, tend to the development of the intention.

The Philosophy of Composition

I am actuated by an ambition which I believe to be an honourable one — the ambition of serving the great cause of truth, while endeavouring to forward the literature of the country.

Letter to Washington Poe

There are certain themes of which the interest is all-absorbing, but which are too entirely horrible for the purposes of legitimate fiction.

The Premature Burial

Melancholy is … the most legitimate of all the poetical tones.

The Philosophy of Composition

The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.

The Philosophy of Composition

Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone.

A couplet

To die laughing must be the most glorious of all glorious deaths!

The Assignation

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?

The Premature Burial

Come! let the burial rite be read–the funeral song be sung!—An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young—A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young.

Lenore

Thank Heaven! the crisis—The danger is past, And the lingering illness, Is over at last—And the fever called “Living,” Is conquered at last.

For Annie

Sleep, those little slices of death — how I loathe them.

Attributed, Survival

That which you mistake for madness is but an over acuteness o the senses

The Tell-Tale Heart

Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence…

Eleanora

I was never really insane, except on occasions where my heart was touched.

Letter to Maria Clemm

I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.

Letter to George W. Eveleth

Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence— whether much that is glorious— whether all that is profound— does not spring from disease of thought— from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.

Eleonora

Although I saw that the features of Ligeia were not of a classic regularity—although I perceived that her loveliness was indeed ‘exquisite,’ and felt that there was much of ‘strangeness’ pervading it, yet I have tried in vain to detect the irregularity and to trace home my own perception of ‘the strange.

Ligeia

It was a freak of fancy in my friend… to be enamored of the night for her own sake; and into this bizarrerie, as into all his others, I quietly fell; giving myself up to his wild whims with a perfect abandon.

The Murders in the Rue Morgue

Decorum – that bug-bear which deters so many from bliss until the opportunity for bliss has forever gone by.

The Spectacles

Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.

Berenice

The customs of the world are so many conventional follies.

The Spectacles

If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.

Marginalia

That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward.

Marginalia

We should bear in mind that, in general, it is the object of our newspapers rather to create a sensation – to make a point – than to further the cause of truth.

The Mystery of Marie Roget

All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream

A Dream WIthin A Dream

And so being young and dipt in folly I fell in love with melancholy.

Romance

I was never really insane except upon occasions where my heart was touched.

Letter to Maria Clemm