Thank Heaven! The crisis /The danger is past, and the lingering illness, is over at last /, and the fever called ''Living'' is conquered at last.
Interpretation
This quote expresses relief and triumph over difficult times and existential struggles.
In this quote by Edgar Allan Poe, the speaker reflects on overcoming a significant crisis or challenge in life, likening the struggle of living to a fever that has finally been conquered. It captures a moment of profound relief and gratitude, suggesting that after enduring hardship and illness, there is a sense of liberation and clarity that comes with overcoming such adversities.
In practice
During a speech at a graduation ceremony, this quote can be used to inspire graduates who have faced challenges.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate; (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed, Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.
Most writers - poets in especial - prefer having it understood that they compose by a species of fine frenzy - an ecstatic intuition - and would positively shudder at letting the public take a peep behind the scenes.
...the agony of my soul found vent in one loud, long and final scream of despair.
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best have gone to their eternal rest.
I could have clasped the red walls to my bosom as a garment of eternal peace. "Death," I said, "any death but that of the pit!" Fool! might I have not known that into the pit it was the object of the burning iron to urge me?
In our endeavors to recall to memory something long forgotten, we often find ourselves upon the very verge of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember.
I'm drawn to write about upstate New York in the way in which a dreamer might have recurring dreams. My childhood and girlhood were spent in upstate New York, in the country north of Buffalo and West of Rochester. So this part of New York state is very familiar to me and, with its economic difficulties, has become emblematic of much of American life.
Days, when the ball of our vision_x000D_ _x000D_ Had eagles that flew unabashed to sun;_x000D_ _x000D_ When the graps on the bow was decision,_x000D_ _x000D_ And arrow and hand and eye were one;_x000D_ _x000D_ When the Pleasures, like waves to a swimmer,_x000D_ _x000D_ Came heaving for rapture ahead! -_x000D_ _x000D_ Invoke them, they dwindle, they glimmer_x000D_ _x000D_ As lights over mounds of the dead.
Most people think that a widow is inhabiting some elegiac world of - it's like Mozart's 'Requiem Mass.' You know, it's very beautiful and elevated thoughts and some measure of dignity. I didn't have that experience at all. I had one pratfall after another.
In today's world, everything seems like some sort of long audition.
I am a dreamer. I know so little of real life that I just canβt help re-living such moments as these in my dreams, for such moments are something I have very rarely experienced. I am going to dream about you the whole night, the whole week, the whole year.
What's the good of drawing in the next breath if all you do is let it out and draw in another?
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