Other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before. Then the bird said, Nevermore. Startled.

The look on his face frightened me terribly, but at the same time I was pleased not to be alone any more.

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.

I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.

I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him.

No thinking being lives who, at some luminous point of his life of thought, has not felt himself lost amid the surges of futile efforts at understanding, or believing, that anything exists greater than his own soul.

There is no passion in nature so demoniacally impatient, as that of him who, shuddering upon the edge of a precipice, thus meditates a Plunge.