The works of Edgar Allan Poe [with a mem. by R.W. Griswold].

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Vsebina

I
xli
II
36
III
70
IV
86
V
92
VI
103
VII
115
VIII
132
XVIII
319
XIX
326
XX
333
XXI
340
XXII
346
XXIII
350
XXIV
362
XXV
368

IX
143
X
160
XI
193
XII
242
XIII
261
XIV
271
XVI
290
XVII
305
XXVI
382
XXVII
395
XXVIII
415
XXIX
424
XXX
431
XXXI
447
XXXII
453

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Priljubljeni odlomki

Stran 267 - DURING THE WHOLE OF a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found myself, as the shades of evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.
Stran 276 - Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow; (This, all this, was in the olden Time, long ago) And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away.
Stran 432 - And the seraphs sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued. Out - out are the lights - out all! And over each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm, And the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy, 'Man,' And its hero the Conqueror Worm.
Stran 267 - I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible.
Stran 352 - On! on!"— but o'er the Past (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies Mute, motionless, aghast! For, alas! alas! with me The light of Life is o'er! "No more — no more...
Stran 431 - Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, And hither and thither fly — Mere puppets they, who come and go At bidding of vast formless things That shift the scenery to and fro, Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible Wo!
Stran 61 - Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten thousand times greater. Circumstances, and a certain bias of mind, have led me to take interest in such riddles, and it may well be doubted whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind which human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve.
Stran 274 - An excited and highly distempered ideality threw a sulphureous lustre over all. His long improvised dirges will ring forever in my ears. Among other things, I hold painfully in mind a certain singular perversion and amplification of the wild air of the last waltz of Von Weber.
Stran 432 - Man doth not yield himself to the angels, nor unto death utterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will.

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