"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."
"And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it—oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head."
"I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening,—just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the deathwatches in the wall."
"The old man’s hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once—once only."
"It grew louder—louder—louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it impossible they heard not?—no, no! They heard!—they suspected!—they knew!—they were making a mockery of my horror!—this I thought, and this I think. "
"Villains!” I shrieked,“dissemble no more! I admit the deed!-tear up the planks!-here, here!-it is the beating of his hideous heart!"