It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture - a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees - very gradually - I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.Man, I pendulum on Edgar Allan Poe like you would not believe. Depending on my mood, I love him or hate him or love to hate him or hate to love him. Or all of that. Regardless, his tenacity for description and lyricism in his prose makes me chinhands all over the place. The Tell-Tale Heart is a classic and deservedly so - one man's descent into madness and murder plays out with that darkened poetry that's made Edgar Allan Poe a household name.
You can read The Tell-Tale Heart here.
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