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...Found in a Bottle, A Descent Into a Maelstrom and The Balloon Hoax; such tales of conscience as William Wilson, The Black Cat and The Tell-tale Heart, wherein the retributions of remorse are portrayed with an awful fidelity; such tales of natural beauty as The Island of the Fay and The Domain of Arnheim; such marvellous studies in ratiocination as the Gold-bug, The Murders in the Rue Morgue, The Purloined Letter and The Mystery of Marie Roget, the latter, a recital of fact, demonstrating the authors wonderful capability of correctly analyzing the mysteries of the human mind; such tales of illusion and banter as The Premature Burial and The System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether; such bits of extravaganza as The Devil in the Belfry and The Angel of the Odd; such tales of adventure as The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym; such papers of keen criticism and review as won for Poe the enthusiastic admiration of Charles Dickens, although they made him many enemies among the over-puffed minor American writers so mercilessly exposed by him; such poems of beauty and melody as The Bells, The Haunted Palace, Tamerlane, The City in the Sea and The Raven.
...Suddenly starting from a proposition, exactly and sharply defined, in terms of utmost simplicity and clearness, he rejected the forms of customary logic, and by a crystalline process of accretion, built up his ocular demonstrations in forms of gloomiest and ghastliest grandeur, or in those of the most airy and delicious beauty, so minutely and distinctly, yet so rapidly, that the attention which was yielded to him was chained till it stood among his wonderful creations, till he himself dissolved the spell, and brought his hearers back to common and base existence, by vulgar fancies or exhibitions of the ignoblest passion.
...He walked-the streets, in madness or melancholy, with lips moving in indistinct curses, or with eyes upturned in passionate prayer (never for himself, for he felt, or professed to feel, that he was already damned, but) for their happiness who at the moment were objects of his idolatry; or with his glances introverted to a heart gnawed with anguish, and with a face shrouded in gloom, he would brave the wildest storms, and all night, with drenched garments and arms beating the winds and rains, would speak as if the spirits that at such times only could be evoked by him from the Aidenn, close by whose portals his disturbed soul sought to forget the ills to which his constitution subjected him?-close by the Aidenn where were those he loved-the Aidenn which he might never see, but in fitful glimpses, as its gates opened to receive the less fiery and more happy natures whose destiny to sin did not involve the doom of death.