âI became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.â
âAll that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.â
âWe loved with a love that was more than love.â
âThose who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.â
âI have great faith in fools - self-confidence my friends will call it.â
âI was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.â
âThere is no exquisite beauty⊠without some strangeness in the proportion.â
âBelieve nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.â
âSleep, those little slices of death â how I loathe them.â
âYears of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute.â
âNever to suffer would never to have been blessed.â
âWords have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.â
âAll religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.â
âIf you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.â
âThe best things in life make you sweaty.â
âI wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.â
âAnd so being young and dipped in folly I fell in love with melancholy.â
âBeauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.â
âScience has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.â
âThere are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told.â
âI dread the events of the future, not in themselves but in their results.â
âTo elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.â
âThere are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.â
âTo die laughing must be the most glorious of all glorious deaths!â
âThe idea of God, infinity, or spirit stands for the possible attempt at an impossible conception.â
âImperceptibly the love of these discords grew upon me as my love of music grew stronger.â
âThe scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our soulsâŠâ
âOnce upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary. Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.â
âI am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.â
âEven for those to whom life and death are equal jests. There are some things that are still held in respect.â
âThe eye, like a shattered mirror, multiplies the images of sorrow.â
âAll suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire.â
âIf a poem hasnât ripped apart your soul; you havenât experienced poetry.â
âIt would be mockery to call such dreariness heaven at all.â
âActually, I do have doubts, all the time. Any thinking person does. There are so many sides to every question.â
âHis heart is a suspended lute; As soon as you touch it, it resonates.â