Edgar Allan Poe was born 199 years ago today.

A toast.

A toast, indeed! And who cares if it was a deliberate brainstorm or a spontaneous gesture, it is a fitting tribute.

Raising my glass (Cointreau, at the moment) to one of the authors who was most influential in forming my lifelong love of reading.

Poe’s overdue for a new gravesite. Something should be done.

What a bizarre, troubled life he led.

Quoth the raven, “Nevermore!”