I never knew any one so keenly alive to a joke as the king was.

There are few persons, even among the calmest thinkers, who have not occasionally been startled into a vague yet thrilling half-credence in the supernatural, by coincidences of so seemingly marvelous a character that, as mere coincidences, the intellect has been unable to receive them.-From The Mystery of Marie Roget

At Paris, just after dark one gusty evening in the autumn of 18–, I was enjoying the twofold luxury of meditation and a meerschaum, in the company with my friend, C. Auguste Dupin, in his little back library, or book-closet, au troisieme, No. 33 Rue Dunot, Faubourg St. Germain.

The mental features discoursed of as the analytical, are, in themselves, but little susceptible of analysis.

For the most wild yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief.

I cannot, for my soul, remember how, when, or even precisely where, I first became acquainted with the lady Ligeia.

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge.

Let me call myself, for the present, Willam Wilson

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge.