Edgar Allan Poe died yesterday. Well not yesterday, yesterday, but many yesterdays ago. And while I was scanning my facebook yesterday, I came across this piece of his death:

“Edgar Allan Poe is dead. . . . This announcement will startle many, but few will be grieved by it. The poet was well known, personally or by reputation, in all this country; he had readers in England, and in several of the states of Continental Europe; but he had few or no friends; and the regrets for his death will be suggested principally by the consideration that in him literary art has lost one of its most brilliant but erratic stars.”
—“Death of Edgar A. Poe,” New-York Daily Tribune, October 9, 1849

For those who study Poe’s life or work, this isn’t exactly a surprise, but it I think a reminder that those with great talents still face great hardships in life (and some time they face it because of their talents.) So take a moment and appreciate the work  and life of a man.  The lonely winter-telling wind of October gives the perfect excuse to curl up with one of his works.