In His House At R'lyeh, Dead Cthulu

The Appeal Of The Spectrally Macabre Is Generally Narrow Because It Demands From The Reader A Certain Degree Of Imagination And A Capacity For Detachment From Every-day Life. Relatively Few Are Free Enough From The Spell Of The Daily Routine To Respond To Rappings From Outside, And Tales Of Ordinary Feelings And Events, Or Of Common Sentimental Distortions Of Such Feelings And Events, Will Always Take First Place In The Taste Of The Majority; Rightly, Perhaps, Since Of Course These Ordinary Matters Make Up The Greater Part Of Human Experience.

Because We Remember Pain And The Menace Of Death More Vividly Than Pleasure, And Because Our Feelings Toward The Beneficent Aspects Of The Unknown Have From The First Been Captured And Formalised By Conventional Religious Rituals, It Has Fallen To The Lot Of The Darker And More Maleficent Side Of Cosmic Mystery To Figure Chiefly In Our Popular Supernatural Folklore.

Religion As A Vital Issue Is Dead Except On Paper, And Whatever Beauty-baiting The Future May Witness Will Be The Work Of Greed And Trade, And Not Of Honest Cosmos-facing.

When Randolph Carter Was Thirty He Lost The Key Of The Gate Of Dreams.

The Most Merciful Thing In The World... Is The Inability Of The Human Mind To Correlate All Its Contents.