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Edgar Allan Poe

The name Poe brings to mind images of murderers and madmen, premature burials, and mysterious women who return from the dead. His works have been in print since 1827 and include such literary classics as “The Tell-Tale Heart,” “The Raven,” and “The Fall of the House of Usher.” This versatile writer’s oeuvre includes short stories, poetry, a novel, a textbook, a book of scientific theory, and hundreds of essays and book reviews. He is widely acknowledged as the inventor of the modern detective story and an innovator in the science fiction genre, but he made his living as America’s first great literary critic and theoretician. Poe’s reputation today rests primarily on his tales of terror as well as on his haunting lyric poetry.Just as the bizarre characters in Poe’s stories have captured the public imagination so too has Poe himself. He is seen as a morbid, mysterious figure lurking in the shadows of moonlit cemeteries or crumbling castles. This is the Poe of legend. But much of what we know about Poe is wrong, the product of a biography written by one of his enemies in an attempt to defame the author’s name.The real Poe was born to traveling actors in Boston on January 19, 1809. Edgar was the second of three children. His other brother William Henry Leonard Poe would also become a poet before his early death, and Poe’s sister Rosalie Poe would grow up to teach penmanship at a Richmond girls’ school. Within three years of Poe’s birth both of his parents had died, and he was taken in by the wealthy tobacco merchant John Allan and his wife Frances Valentine Allan in Richmond, Virginia while Poe’s siblings went to live with other families. Mr. Allan would rear Poe to be a businessman and a Virginia gentleman, but Poe had dreams of being a writer in emulation of his childhood hero the British poet Lord Byron. Early poetic verses found written in a young Poe’s handwriting on the backs of Allan’s ledger sheets reveal how little interest Poe had in the tobacco business.For more information, please see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_al…
години от живота: 19 януари 1809 7 октомври 1849

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Leloutsios Britanniosцитирапреди 2 години
The heathen philosopher, when he had a mind to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth, meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open.”

As You Like It.

At Venice, in the year —, in the street —, lived Pedro Garcia, a metaphysician. – With regard to date and residence, circumstances of a private and sacred nature forbid me to be more explicit. In all mental qualifications our hero was gigantic. Moreover, in bodily circumference, he had no cause of complaint; but, in right ascension, four feet five was the philosopher’s ne plus ultra
Aerisцитирапреди 2 години
125 A fearful idea now suddenly drove the blood in torrents upon my heart, and for a brief period, I once more relapsed into insensibility. Upon recovering, I at once started to my feet, trembling convulsively in every fiber. I thrust my arms wildly above and around me in all directions. I felt nothing; yet dreaded to move a step, lest I should be impeded by the walls 130 of the tomb. Perspiration burst from every pore and stood in cold big beads on my forehead. The agony of suspense grew at length intolerable, and I cautiously moved forward, with my arms extended, and my eyes straining from their sockets, in the hope of catching some faint ray of light.

I proceeded for many paces; but still all was blackness and vacancy. I 135 breathed more freely. It seemed evident that mine was not, at least, the most hideous of fates.

Note Poe's use of words and phrases, in lines 125-136, to describe the dungeon

Aerisцитирапреди 2 години
I now lay upon my back, and at full length, on a species of low framework of wood. To this I was securely 265 bound by a long strap resembling a surcingle. It passed in many convolutions about my limbs and body, leaving at liberty only my head, and my left arm to such extent that I could, by dint of much exertion, supply myself with food from an earthen dish which lay by my side on the floor. I saw, to my horror, that the pitcher had been removed. I say to my 270 horror; for I was consumed with intolerable thirst. This thirst it appeared to be the design of my persecutors to stimulate: for the food in the dish was meat pungently seasoned. Looking upward I surveyed the ceiling of my

prison. It was some thirty or forty feet overhead, and constructed much as the side walls. In one of its panels a very singular figure riveted my whole 275 attention. It was the painted figure of Time as he is commonly represented, save that, in lieu of a scythe, he held what, at a casual glance, I supposed to be the pictured image of a huge pendulum such as we see on antique clocks. There was something, however, in the appearance of this machine which caused me to regard it more attentively. While I gazed directly 280 upward at it (for its position was immediately over my own) I fancied that I saw it in motion. In an instant afterward the fancy was confirmed. Its sweep was brief, and of course slow. I watched it for some minutes, somewhat in fear, but more in wonder. Wearied at length with observing its dull movement, I turned my eyes upon the other objects in the cell.

Explain the situation in lines 262-284

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RUMELI BISWASсподели впечатлениеминалата година
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So good.... Keep you hooked

  • Edgar Allan Poe
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  • Pekoсподели впечатлениепреди 2 години
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    Many investing stories. I love Edgar Allan Poe's spooky feels in his books. But as I'm not a native English speaker, the fancy and standard vocabulary was pretty difficult to understand at first, but after learning hundreds of new words that I absolutely would love to use in my english writings, this book had taught me a lot. really taught me a lot

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  • viridianpetalсподели впечатлениепреди 3 месеца
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    It's a nice and short poem, worth reading.

    The poem itself might come off as confusing, due to the words and descriptions that aren't commonly used in today's vocabulary, so it might require reading it a few times or seeking out external sources for explanation.

    Ultimately, it's a poem about grief where the narrator gets awoken from sleeping by what sounds knocking at the front door. He opens it, calling out for a deceased woman by the name of “Lenore”, but only sees a raven which lands upon the statue of Pallas(Athena, goddess of wisdom). Initially he was amused by the bird, which can only reply with the word “nevermore”. The narrator starts asking it questions, that are rational and in composed manner but slowly starts slipping off into madness, grief and irrationality when the raven, from narrator's point of view, starts confirming and agreeing with the man's dark thoughts.

    This starts happening when the bird agrees with his words that it'll leave him like everyone else in his life. Then the narrator starts asking it, will Lenore and him unite in heaven, and he interprets the ravens “nevermore” as a “no, never.”. This causes the narrator to start calling the bird “evil” and “the devil”, while spiraling into madness, consumed by the grief. The poem ends with the raven still standing on the statue while the narrator says that his soul “shall be lifted– nevermore”.

    PS. English isn't my first language, and this is only my personal interpretation from someone who is trying to get into reading as a hobby. Have a good day, to anyone who read this review/analysis/interpretation.

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