Lovecraft - Wikiquote. There is no field other than the weird in which I have any aptitude or inclination for fictional composition. Life has never interested me so much as the escape from life. Howard Phillips Lovecraft (2. August. 18. 90 – 1. March. 19. 37) was an American author of fantasy, horror, and science fiction, noted for combining these three genres within single narratives and most famous for the creation of the Cthulhu Mythos. He is considered, along with Edgar Allan Poe, to be one of the greatest Horror writers.
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Our means of receiving impressions are absurdly few, and our notions of surrounding objects infinitely narrow. We see things only as we are constructed to see them, and can gain no idea of their absolute nature. With five feeble senses we pretend to comprehend the boundlessly complex cosmos, yet other beings with wider, stronger, or different range of senses might not only see very differently the things we see, but might see and study whole worlds of matter, energy, and life which lie close at hand yet can never be detected with the senses we have. It is an unfortunate fact that the bulk of humanity is too limited in its mental vision to weigh with patience and intelligence those isolated phenomena, seen and felt only by a psychologically sensitive few, which lie outside its common experience. Men of broader intellect know that there is no sharp distinction betwixt the real and the unreal; that all things appear as they do only by virtue of the delicate individual physical and mental media through which we are made conscious of them; but the prosaic materialism of the majority condemns as madness the flashes of super- sight which penetrate the common veil of obvious empiricism. March 1. 92. 2)I have dwelt ever in realms apart from the visible world; spending my youth and adolescence in ancient and little- known books, and in roaming the fields and groves of the region near my ancestral home. I do not think that what I read in these books or saw in these fields and groves was exactly what other boys read and saw there; but of this I must say little, since detailed speech would but confirm those cruel slanders upon my intellect which I sometimes overhear from the whispers of the stealthy attendants around me.
- His fans frequently speak of “The Cthulhu Mythos,” which is a name coined by August Derleth, who was the first to publish Lovecraft’s work, and the founder of.
- Weekly Board Game Reviews, Tutorials, and Podcasts. Weekly board game and card game reviews, tutorials, podcasts, and vlogs.
- Mad rambling and weird fictions Nonsense guaranteed! A family of four podcasts from Mr Jim Moon! Originally what was one show (Hypnobobs) is now a quartet - the.
- At the Mountains of Madness is a 1936 novella by H.P. Lovecraft, serialized in Astounding Stories magazine. It revolves around the geologist William Dyer, leader of.
- The Hungry Stones and Other Stories, Rabindranath Tagore, 1916.
It is sufficient for me to relate events without analysing causes. Penniless, and at the end of my supply of the drug which alone makes life endurable, I can bear the torture no longer; and shall cast myself from this garret window into the squalid street below. November 1. 91. 9)The end is near. I hear a noise at the door, as of some immense slippery body lumbering against it. It shall not find me. God, that hand! 1. November 1. 91. 9)My opinion of my whole experience varies from time to time.
In broad daylight, and at most seasons I am apt to think the greater part of it a mere dream; but sometimes in the autumn, about two in the morning when winds and animals howl dismally, there comes from inconceivable depths below a damnable suggestions of rhythmical throbbing . October 1. 91. 9)I screamed aloud that I was not afraid; that I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace. We swore to one another that the city was exactly the same, and still alive.. Science, already oppressive with its shocking revelations, will perhaps be the ultimate exterminator of our human species — if separate species we be — for its reserve of unguessed horrors could never be borne by mortal brains if loosed upon the world.
March 1. 92. 1)It is only the inferior thinker who hastens to explain the singular and the complex by the primitive shortcut of supernaturalism. September 1. 92. 5). We know that we have looked back through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy. There be those who say that things and places have souls, and there be those who say they have not; I dare not say, myself, but I will tell of The Street.
December 1. 92. 0)When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victim's body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep. In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods. March 1. 92. 1). Memories and possibilities are ever more hideous than realities. No new horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the commonplace. But some of us awake in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of fountains that sing in the sun, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the edges of thick forests; and then we know that we have looked back through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy.
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May 1. 92. 2)Madness rides the star- wind.. Memories and possibilities are ever more hideous than realities. September 1. 92. 6). Past, present, future, all are one in Yog- Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again..
The only saving grace of the present is that it's too damned stupid to question the past very closely. October 1. 92. 7)One of those creatures wrote you once, . Yog- Sothoth is the gate. Yog- Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog- Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread.
April 1. 92. 9)There are black zones of shadow close to our daily paths, and now and then some evil soul breaks a passage through. When this happens the man who knows must strike before reckoning the consequences. It was perhaps that which certain secret cults of earth have whispered of as YOG- SOTHOTH, and which has been a deity under other names; that which the crustaceans of Yuggoth worship as the Beyond- One, and which the vaporous brains of the spiral nebulae know by an untranslatable Sign.. April 1. 92. 1)Of the pleasures and pains of opium much has been written. The ecstasies and horrors of De Quincey and the paradis artificiels of Baudelaire are preserved and interpreted with an art which makes them immortal, and the world knows well the beauty, the terror and the mystery of those obscure realms into which the inspired dreamer is transported.
But much as has been told, no man has yet dared intimate the nature of the phantasms thus unfolded to the mind, or hint at the direction of the unheard- of roads along whose ornate and exotic course the partaker of the drug is so irresistibly borne. I took opium but once — in the year of the plague, when doctors sought to deaden the agonies they could not cure. There was an overdose — my physician was worn out with horror and exertion — and I travelled very far indeed.
In the end I returned and lived, but my nights are filled with strange memories, nor have I ever permitted a doctor to give me opium again. Slowly but inexorably crawling upon my consciousness and rising above every other impression, came a dizzying fear of the unknown; a fear all the greater because I could not analyse it, and seeming to concern a stealthily approaching menace; not death, but some nameless, unheard- of thing inexpressibly more ghastly and abhorrent. I felt that some horrible scene or object lurked beyond the silk- hung walls, and shrank from glancing through the arched, latticed windows that opened so bewilderingly on every hand. I beheld such a sight as I had never beheld before, and which no living person can have seen save in the delirium of fever or the inferno of opium. The building stood on a narrow point of land — or what was now a narrow point of land — fully three hundred feet above what must lately have been a seething vortex of mad waters.
On either side of the house there fell a newly washed- out precipice of red earth, whilst ahead of me the hideous waves were still rolling in frightfully, eating away the land with ghastly monotony and deliberation. Some terror in the swishing tall grass seemed added to that of the diabolically pounding sea, and I started up crying aloud and disjointedly, ? Is it Tiger? Is it a Beast that I am afraid of? No sooner had I crawled beneath the overhanging foliage of the palm, than there dropped from its branches a young child of such beauty as I never beheld before. Though ragged and dusty, this being bore the features of a faun or demigod, and seemed almost to diffuse a radiance in the dense shadow of the tree.
It smiled and extended its hand, but before I could arise and speak I heard in the upper air the exquisite melody of singing; notes high and low blent with a sublime and ethereal harmoniousness. The sun had by this time sunk below the horizon, and in the twilight I saw an aureole of lambent light encircled the child's head. Then in a tone of silver it addressed me: . They have come down through the gloaming from the stars. Now all is over, and beyond the Arinurian streams we shall dwell blissfully in Teloe.
A god and goddess they must have been, for such beauty is not mortal; and they took my hands, saying, . We slowly ascended together, as if borne on a fragrant breeze which blew not from the earth but from the golden nebulae, and the child whispered in my ear that I must look always upward to the pathways of light, and never backward to the sphere I had just left.
The ocean ate the last of the land and poured into the smoking gulf, thereby giving up all it had ever conquered. From the new- flooded lands it flowed again, uncovering death and decay; and from its ancient and immemorial bed it trickled loathsomely, uncovering nighted secrets of the years when Time was young and the gods unborn. Above the waves rose weedy remembered spires.
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