Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.
I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.
Beauty; the death, then, of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world.
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
Yet, mad am I not – and very surely do I not dream.
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.
To observe attentively is to remember distinctly.
They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only at night.
The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge.
No incident ever occurring in the course of human events is more adapted to inspire the supremeness of mental and bodily distress than a case like our own, of living inhumation.
Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger, portion of truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.
But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. 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.
