Edgar Allan Poe: The Complete Tales and Poems
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I determined to make my wife believe that I was suddenly smitten with a passion for the stage. In this, I succeeded to a miracle; and to every question or suggestion found myself at liberty to reply in my most frog-like and sepulchral tones with some passage from the tragedy — any portion of which, as I soon took great pleasure in observing, would apply equally well to any particular subject. It is not to be supposed, however, that in the delivery of such passages I was found at all deficient in the looking asquint — the showing my teeth — the working my knees — the shuffling my feet — or in ...more
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That sad little rake, the Prince of Wales, invited me to dinner.
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trust to the shrewdness and common sense of the public
Mark Boyle
LOL
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we discovered a good many of the hair seal, but did not molest them.
Mark Boyle
I should hope so, too! :D
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As I turned, I found that Peters and Allen had followed me. I desired them to go back, as there was not room for two persons to pass, saying they should have some of my nuts.
Mark Boyle
Too much information.
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“In the name of the prophets — figs!!”
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babies, like tough steaks, or the modern Greek olive trees, are invariably the better for beating
Mark Boyle
Sounds like a British nanny speaking. :)
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At five months of age he used to get into such passions that he was unable to articulate. At six months, I caught him gnawing a pack of cards. At seven months he was in the constant habit of catching and kissing the female babies. At eight months he peremptorily refused to put his signature to the Temperance pledge. Thus he went on increasing in iniquity, month after month, until, at the close of the first year, he not only insisted upon wearing moustaches, but had contracted a propensity for cursing and swearing, and for backing his assertions by bets.
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Mysteries force a man to think, and so injure his health.
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I bedewed his grave with my tears, worked a bar sinister on his family escutcheon, and, for the general expenses of his funeral, sent in my very moderate bill to the transcendentalists. The scoundrels refused to pay it, so I had Mr. Dammit dug up at once, and sold him for dog’s meat.
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And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
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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. The latter end is only pursued when it seems coincident with the former.