<center>
<br><br>
I think in generalities, but I live in details.
<br><br>
In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day.
<br><br>
Death row is a state of mind.
<br><br>
The walls we build around us to keep sadness out also keeps out the joy.
<br><br>
All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
<br><br>
Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of the truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.
<br><br>
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
<br><br>

Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears
<br><br>
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
<br><br>
I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.
<br><br>
If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.
<br><br>
Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be revealed.
<br><br>
I have no faith in human perfectability. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active - not more happy - nor more wise, than he was 6000 years ago.
<br><br>
The true genius shudders at incompleteness - and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be.
<br><br>
Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term Art, I should call it 'the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul.' The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of 'Artist.'
<br><br>
Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
<br><br>
A gentleman with a pug nose is a contradiction in terms.
<br><br>
As an individual, I myself feel impelled to fancy a limitless succession of Universes. Each exists, apart and independently, in the bosom of its proper and particular God.
<br><br>
I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect - in terror.
<br><br>
That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.
<br><br>
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?
<br><br>
Stupidity is a talent for misconception.
<br><br>
And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams, Are where thy dark eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams -- In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams.
<br><br>
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!