Memory Sometimes Makes Merciful Deletions.

I Recognise A Distinction Between Dream Life And Real Life, Between Appearances And Actualities. I Confess To An Over-powering Desire To Know Whether I Am Asleep Or Awake--whether The Environment And Laws Which Affect Me Are External And Permanent, Or The Transitory Products Of My Own Brain.

In His House At R'lyeh, Dead Cthulu Waits Dreaming

I Am Distinctly Opposed To Visibly Arrogant And Arbitrary Extremes Of Government--but This Is Simply Because I Wish The Safety Of An Artistic And Intellectual Civilisation To Be Secure, Not Because I Have Any Sympathy With The Coarse-grained Herd Who Would Menace The Civilisation If Not Placated By Sops.

I Have Looked Upon All The Universe Has To Hold Of Horror,and Even The Skies Of Spring And Flowers Of Summer Must Ever Afterward Be Poison To Me.

It Is True That I Have Sent Six Bullets Through The Head Of My Best Friend, And Yet I Hope To Show By This Statement That I Am Not His Murderer.