I shudder at the thought of any, even the most trivial, incident, which may operate upon this intolerable agitation of soul. I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect - in terror. In this unnerved - in this pitiable condition -i feel that the period will sooner or later arrive when I must abandon life and reason together, in some struggle with the grim phantasm, fear.". I learned, moreover, at intervals, and through broken and equivocal hints, another singular feature of his mental condition. He was enchained by certain superstitious impressions in regard to the dwelling which he tenanted, and whence, for many years, he had never ventured forth - in regard to an influence whose supposititious force was conveyed in terms too shadowy here to be re-stated. He admitted, however, although with hesitation, that much of the peculiar gloom which thus afflicted him could be traced to a more natural and far more palpable origin - to the severe and long-continued illness - indeed to the evidently approaching dissolution -. "Her decease he said, with a bitterness which I can never forget, "would leave him (him the hopeless and the frail) the last of the ancient race of the Ushers." While he spoke, the lady madeline (for so was she called) passed slowly through. I regarded her with an utter astonishment not unmingled with dread - and yet I found it impossible to account for such feelings.
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His voice varied rapidly from a tremulous indecision (when the animal spirits seemed utterly in abeyance) to that species of energetic concision - that abrupt, weighty, unhurried, and hollow-sounding enunciation - that leaden, self-balanced and perfectly modulated guttural utterance, which may be observed in the. It was thus wallpaper that he spoke of the object of my visit, of his earnest desire to see me, and of the solace he expected me to afford him. He entered, at some length, into what he conceived to be the nature of his malady. It was, he said, a constitutional and a family evil, and one for which he despaired to find a remedy - a mere nervous affection, he immediately added, which would undoubtedly soon pass. It displayed itself in a host of unnatural sensations. Some of these, as he detailed them, interested and bewildered me; although, perhaps, the terms, and the general manner of the narration had their weight. He suffered much from a morbid acuteness of the senses; the most insipid food was alone endurable; he could wear only garments of certain texture; the odours of all flowers were oppressive; his eyes were tortured by even a faint light; and there were but. To an anomalous species of terror I found him a bounden slave. "I shall perish said he, "I must perish in this deplorable folly. Thus, thus, and not otherwise, shall I be lost. I dread the events of the future, not in themselves, but in their results.
It was with difficulty that I could bring myself to admit the identity of the wan being before me with the companion of my early boyhood. Yet the character of his face had been at all times remarkable. A cadaverousness of complexion; an eye large, liquid, and luminous beyond comparison; lips somewhat thin and very pallid, but of a surpassingly beautiful curve; a nose of a delicate hebrew model, but with a breadth of nostril unusual in similar formations; a finely moulded chin. And now in the mere exaggeration of the prevailing character of these features, and of the expression they were wont to convey, lay so much of change that I doubted to whom I spoke. The now ghastly pallor of the skin, and the now miraculous lustre of the eye, above all things startled and even awed. The silken hair, too, had been suffered to grow all unheeded, and as, in its wild gossamer texture, it floated rather than fell about the face, i could not, even with effort, connect its Arabesque expression with any idea of simple humanity. In the manner of my friend I was at once struck with an incoherence - an inconsistency; and I soon found this to arise from golf a series of feeble and futile struggles to overcome an habitual trepidancy - an excessive nervous agitation. For something of this nature i had indeed been prepared, no less by his letter, than by reminiscences of certain boyish traits, and by conclusions deduced from his peculiar physical conformation and temperament. His action was alternately vivacious and sullen.
The general furniture was profuse, comfortless, antique, and proposal tattered. Many books and musical instruments lay scattered about, but failed to give any vitality to the scene. I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow. An air of stern, deep, and irredeemable gloom hung over and pervaded all. Upon my entrance, usher arose from a sofa on which he had been lying at full length, and greeted me with a vivacious warmth which had much in it, i at first thought, of an overdone cordiality - of the constrained effort of the ennuyé. A glance, however, at his countenance, convinced me of his perfect sincerity. We sat down; and for some moments, while he spoke not, i gazed upon him with a feeling half of pity, half of awe. Surely, man had never before so terribly altered, in so brief a period, as had Roderick Usher!
His countenance, i thought, wore a mingled expression of low cunning and perplexity. He accosted me with trepidation and passed. The valet now threw open a door and ushered me into the presence of his master. The room in which I found myself was very large and lofty. The windows were long, narrow, and pointed, and at so vast a distance from the black oaken floor as to be altogether inaccessible from within. Feeble gleams of encrimsoned light made their way through the trellised panes, and served to render sufficiently distinct the more prominent objects around; the eye, however, struggled in vain to reach the remoter angles of the chamber, or the recesses of the vaulted and fretted. Dark draperies hung upon the walls.
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No portion of the masonry had fallen; and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency between its still perfect adaptation of parts, and the crumbling condition of the individual stones. In this there was much that reminded me of the specious totality of old wood-work which has rotted for long years in some neglected vault, with no disturbance from the breath of the external air. Beyond this indication of extensive decay, however, the fabric gave little token of instability. Perhaps the eye of a scrutinising observer might have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which, extending from the roof of the building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag direction, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn. Noticing these things, reviews i rode over a short causeway to the house.
A servant in waiting took my horse, and i entered the gothic archway of the hall. A valet, of stealthy step, thence conducted me, in silence, through many dark and intricate passages in my progress to the studio of his master. Much that i encountered on the way contributed, i know not how, to heighten the vague sentiments of which I have already spoken. While the objects around me - while the carvings of the ceilings, the sombre tapestries of the walls, the ebon blackness of the floors, and the phantasmagoric armorial trophies which rattled as I strode, were but matters to which, or to such as which,. On one of the staircases, i met the physician of the family.
It was this deficiency, i considered, while running over in thought the perfect keeping of the character of the premises with the accredited character of the people, and while speculating upon the possible influence which the one, in the long lapse of centuries, might have. I have said that the sole effect of my somewhat childish experiment -that of looking down within the tarn -had been to deepen the first singular impression. There can be no doubt that the consciousness of the rapid increase of my superstition - for why should I not so term it? served mainly to accelerate the increase itself. Such, i have long known, is the paradoxical law of all sentiments having terror as a basis.
And it might have been for this reason only, that, when i again uplifted my eyes to the house itself, from its image in the pool, there grew in my mind a strange fancy - a fancy so ridiculous, indeed, that I but mention. I had so worked upon my imagination as really to believe that about the whole mansion and domain there hung an atmosphere peculiar to themselves and their immediate vicinity - an atmosphere which had no affinity with the air of heaven, but which had reeked. Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream, i scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive antiquity. The discoloration of ages had been great. Minute fungi overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a fine tangled web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart from any extraordinary dilapidation.
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Its proprietor, roderick Usher, had been one of my boon companions in boyhood; but many years had elapsed since our last meeting. A letter, however, had lately reached me in a distant part of the country - a letter from him - which, listing in its wildly importunate nature, had admitted of no other than a personal reply. Gave evidence of nervous agitation. The writer spoke of acute bodily illness - of a mental disorder which oppressed him - and of an earnest desire to see me, as his best, and indeed his only personal friend, with a view of attempting, by the cheerfulness of my society, some. It was the manner in which all this, and much more, was said - it the apparent heart that went with his request -which allowed me no room for hesitation; and i accordingly obeyed forthwith what I still considered a very singular summons. Although, as boys, we had been even intimate associates, yet I really knew little of my friend. His reserve had been always excessive and habitual. I was aware, however, that his very ancient family had been noted, time out of mind, for a peculiar sensibility of temperament, displaying itself, through long ages, in many works of exalted art, and manifested, of late, in repeated deeds of munificent yet unobtrusive charity. I had learned, too, the very remarkable fact, that the stem of the Usher race, all time-honoured as it was, had put forth, at no period, any enduring branch; in other words, that the entire family lay in the direct line of descent, and had.
I know not how it was - but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon online the scene before me - upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain - upon the bleak walls - upon the vacant eye-like windows - upon a few rank sedges - and upon a few white trunks. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart - an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it - i paused to think - what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the house of Usher? It was a mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowded upon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion, that while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond our depth. It was possible, i reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and, acting upon this idea, i reined my horse. Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now proposed to myself a sojourn of some weeks.
poes The tell-Tale heart, narrated by james Mason. James Earl Jones reads Edgar Allan poes The raven and Walt Whitmans Song of Myself. Christopher Walken, Iggy pop, debbie harry other Celebs read Tales by Edgar Allan poe. Colin Marshall hosts and produces, notebook on Cities and Culture and writes essays on cities, language, asia, and mens style. Hes at work on a book about Los Angeles, a los Angeles Primer. Follow him on Twitter at @colinmarshall or on, facebook. The fall of the house of Usher by Edgar Allan poe (1839) Son coeur est un luth suspendu; Sitôt qu'on le touche il résonne. During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, i had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself,.
I go into the house of death. Die, die, die into the house of death. Last word week, in deference to the approach of Halloween, we featured the complete works of Edgar Allan poe as Free ebooks and Free audio books. If you give them a read, a listen, or both, you'll discover that few creators, using nothing more than the written word, can disturb quite so effectively as poe. But his written words have also provided inspiration to frightening works in other media, including the previously featured 1953 British animation of "The tell-Tale heart" and, today, the short-film version of "The fall of the house of Usher.". That 1839 story perhaps most perfectly (and most viscerally) realizes such pet themes of poe's as illness, dread, and live burial, and as such has served as material to a great many filmmakers as defiantly lowbrow as Roger Corman and as uncompromisingly idiosyncratic as Jan švankmajer. But here we offer you one of the most interesting cinematic "Usher"s ever made: James Sibley watson and Melville webber's 13-minute avant-garde adaptation, scripted in part by poet. "Despite their importance as leading figures in the film world writes Tara Travisano, "Watson and Webber's work is often overlooked and not given sufficient credit." Though they got their shooting script from the modernist-influenced cummings, the filmmakers, "not fans of modernism "preferred to have their films. Fall of the house of Usher, the best-known work they ever produced, "hardly follows a narrative, but is valued for its creative use of repetition and variation and for the film's dramatic lighting." And don't worry if you haven't read the original story.
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Blood and thunder mix with rain. All shall kneel at the sound of my name. No road back, i never will return. Army of the heavens, my army waits in hell. Seven gates to pass until I reach my home. Across the bridge writing of death, beyond the gates of light. Into the darkness I command my soul.