Explore "Berenice" by Edgar Allan Poe on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Dicebant mihi sodales, si sepulchrum amice visitarem, curas meas aliquantulum fore levatas. / Ebn Zaiat
Misery is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch -- as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow! How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness? -- from the covenant of peace, a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of today, or the agonies which are, have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.