Edgar Allan Poe: Complete Tales and Poems. Эдгар Аллан По

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Edgar Allan Poe: Complete Tales and Poems - Эдгар Аллан По

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href="#ulink_e339e082-5810-5b8c-b973-47fb155e43e4">THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

       WILLIAM WILSON.

       THE CONVERSATION OF EIROS AND CHARMION.

       WHY THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN WEARS HIS HAND IN A SLING.

       THE BUSINESS MAN.

       THE MAN OF THE CROWD.

       THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

       A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTRÖM.

       THE ISLAND OF THE FAY.

       THE COLLOQUY OF MONOS AND UNA.

       NEVER BET THE DEVIL YOUR HEAD.

       ELEONORA.

       THREE SUNDAYS IN A WEEK.

       THE OVAL PORTRAIT.

       THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH.

       THE LANDSCAPE GARDEN.

       THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET.

       THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

       THE TELL-TALE HEART.

       THE GOLD-BUG.

       THE BLACK CAT.

       DIDDLING CONSIDERED AS ONE OF THE EXACT SCIENCES.

       THE SPECTACLES.

       A TALE OF THE RAGGED MOUNTAINS.

       THE PREMATURE BURIAL.

       MESMERIC REVELATION.

       THE OBLONG BOX.

       THE ANGEL OF THE ODD.

       “THOU ART THE MAN.”

       THE LITERARY LIFE OF THINGUM BOB, ESQ.

       THE PURLOINED LETTER.

       THE THOUSAND-AND-SECOND TALE OF SCHEHERAZADE.

       SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

       THE POWER OF WORDS.

       THE IMP OF THE PERVERSE.

       THE SYSTEM OF DOCTOR TARR AND PROFESSOR FETHER.

       THE FACTS IN THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR.

       THE SPHINX.

       THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO.

       THE DOMAIN OF ARNHEIM.

       MELLONTA TAUTA.

       HOP-FROG.

       VON KEMPELEN AND HIS DISCOVERY.

       X-ING A PARAGRAB.

       LANDOR’S COTTAGE.

      Pestis eram vivus—moriens tua mors ero.

      Martin Luther.

      Horror and fatality have been stalking abroad in all ages. Why then give a date to the story I have to tell? Let it suffice to say, that at the period of which I speak, there existed, in the interior of Hungary, a settled although hidden belief in the doctrines of the Metempsychosis. Of the doctrines themselves—that is, of their falsity, or of their probability—I say nothing. I assert, however, that much of our incredulity (as La Bruyère says of all our unhappiness) “vient de ne pouvoir être seuls.” (†)

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