The Raven Quotes

Quoth the raven, nevermore.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing.

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted – nevermore!

The raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only that one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary.

The silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token.

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, ‘Lenore?’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December.

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!

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word ‘Lenore!’

Merely this and nothing more.

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken.

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

Till I scarcely more than muttered, ‘Other friends have flown before – on the morrow, he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer, swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.

And the lamplight o’er him boasts, throws his shadow on the floor.

Shall be lifted – nevermore!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming.

Whether tempest-tossed or whether tempest-tossed or whether tempest-tossed or whether tempest-tossed or whether tempest-tossed or in repose.

Could I ever bid farewell to the blessed memory of Lenore?

Swung by angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

On this home by horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore —

Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!

With such name as ‘Nevermore.’

The raven himself is hoarse that croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan under my battlements.

Oh, release me from this hour of unrelenting turmoil!

I sat toiling, tears streaming, desperately dreaming dreams on that midnight dreary.

In the velvet lining with the lamplight gloating o’er me, she shall press, yes, nevermore!

Thou art sure no craven, ghastly, grim, and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore.

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer.

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor.

As my hopes have flown before.

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer tinctured all the recesses with a lustre gloomy as the shadow of the night.

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore —

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Prophet! said I, thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil!