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.
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best have gone to their eternal rest.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote reflects on the inevitability of death and the finality of life, suggesting that all experiences, good and bad, end in the same fate.
Edgar Allan Poe's quote encapsulates the idea that life is a balance of experiences, with both joy and sorrow ultimately leading to a common destiny: death. It serves as a reminder that regardless of one's life circumstances—whether they are deemed good, bad, or anything in between—everyone eventually faces the same fate in the end. This perspective invites reflection on the transient nature of existence and encourages an appreciation of the present.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
During a memorial service, one might share this quote to reflect on the shared fate of all.
More from Edgar Allan Poe
All quotes →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.
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.
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.
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On a single winged word hath hung the destiny of nations.
Somewhere beyond the curtain Of distorting days Lives that lonely thing That shone before these eyes Targeted, trod like Spring.
The devil is always discovering something novel against the truth.