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

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LibraryThing Review

Nutzerbericht  - Kaethe - LibraryThing

I'm reading the story of Pfaall. I had no idea that Poe had written science fiction about a trip to the moon. Amazing. *** Finished Pfaall, which turns out to be an amusing story, as well as ... Vollständige Rezension lesen

LibraryThing Review

Nutzerbericht  - Kaethe - LibraryThing

I'm reading the story of Pfaall. I had no idea that Poe had written science fiction about a trip to the moon. Amazing. *** Finished Pfaall, which turns out to be an amusing story, as well as ... Vollständige Rezension lesen

Ausgewählte Seiten

Inhalt

I
5
II
32
III
64
IV
80
V
88
VI
97
VII
109
IX
126
XVIII
311
XIX
318
XX
325
XXI
332
XXII
338
XXIII
342
XXIV
354
XXV
360

X
137
XI
154
XII
187
XIII
236
XIV
255
XV
265
XVI
282
XVII
297
XXVI
374
XXVII
387
XXVIII
407
XXIX
416
XXX
423
XXXI
439
XXXII
445

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Beliebte Passagen

Seite 261 - 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.
Seite 268 - 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.
Seite 424 - 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.
Seite 261 - 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.
Seite 344 - 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...
Seite 423 - 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!
Seite 55 - 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.
Seite 267 - 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.
Seite 424 - 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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