Quotes from Robert W. Chambers

Perfection can be overdone; a rift in a lute relieves melodious monotony, and when discords cease to amuse, one can always have the instrument mended or buy a banjo.

Like swimming squirrels, you navigate with the help of Heaven and a stiff breeze, but you never land where you hope to—do you?

I have been forced to believe that neither the scholarly grace of my friend Elliott nor the buxom beauty of my friend Rowden have touched that heart of ice." Elliot and Rowden, boiling with indignation, cried out, "And you!" "I," said Clifford blandly, "do fear to tread where you rush in.

The time had come, the people should know the son of Hastur, and the whole world bow to the black stars which hang in the sky over Carcosa.

read it and reread it, and wept and laughed and trembled with a horror which at times assails me yet.

Songs that the Hyades shall sing, Where flap the tatters of the King, Must die unheard in Dim Carcosa.

Along the shore the cloud waves break, The twin suns sink behind the lake, The shadows lengthen In Carcosa. Strange is the night where black stars rise, And strange moons circle through the skies, But stranger still is Lost Carcosa. Songs that the Hyades shall sing, Where flap the tatters of the King, Must die unheard in Dim Carcosa. Song of my soul, my voice is dead, Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed Shall dry and die in Lost Carcosa.

It is possible that his curiosity was piqued, for with the exception of a hen-turkey, a boy of nineteen is the most openly curious biped alive.

Harold,' she would say, 'do you think I'm a fool? If I place the Crimson Diamond in any safe-deposit vault in New York, somebody will steal it, sooner or later.' Then she would nibble a sprig of catnip and peer cunningly at me.

Under the tossing ocean the voice of the waters was in my ears—a low, sweet voice, intimate, mysterious. Through singing foam and broad, green, glassy depths, by whispering sandy channels atrail with sea-weed, and on, on, out into the vague, cool sea, I sped, rising to the top, sinking, gliding. Then at last I flung myself out of water, hands raised, and the clamor of the gulls filled my ears.

completely surrounded the island had been turned into parks which proved a god-send to the population.

Really, old chap," he said, "I don't mean to run down a man you like, but for the life of me I can't see what the deuce you find in common with Mr. Wilde. He's not well bred, to put it generously; he is hideously deformed; his head is the head of a criminally insane person. You know yourself he's been in an asylum—

Then, as I fell, I heard Tessie's soft cry and her spirit fled: and even while falling I longed to follow her, for I knew that the King in Yellow had opened his tattered mantle and there was only God to cry to now.

He had no ears. The artificial ones, which now stood out at an angle from the fine wire, were his one weakness. They were made of wax and painted a shell pink, but the rest of his face was yellow.

It is possible that his curiosity was piqued, for with the exception of a hen-turkey, a boy of nineteen is the most openly curious biped alive. From twenty until death he tries to conceal it.

Why should certain chords in music make me think of the brown and golden tints of autumn foliage?

At last he whispered: 'Sylvia, it is I.' Again he said, 'It is I.' Then, knowing that she was dead, he kissed her on the mouth. And through the long watches of the night the cat purred on his knee, tightening and relaxing her padded claws, until the sky paled above the Street of the Four Winds.

Ferme tes yeux à demi, Croise tes bras sur ton sein, Et de ton cÅ"ur endormi Chasse à jamais tout dessein."   "Je chante la nature, Les étoiles du soir, les larmes du matin, Les couchers de soleil à l'horizon lointain, Le ciel qui parle au cÅ"ur d'existence future!

It filled my head, that muttering sound, like thick oily smoke from a fat-rendering vat or an odour of noisome decay. And as I lay and tossed about, the voice in my ears seemed more distinct, and I began to understand the words he had muttered. They came to me slowly as if I had forgotten them, and at last I could make some sense out of the sounds. It was this: "Have you found the Yellow Sign?" "Have you found the Yellow Sign?" "Have you found the Yellow Sign?

I hated to see the life go out of a warm, living creature and I declined to be present. Picking up a book at random, I sat down in the studio to read. Alas! I had found The King in Yellow.

He's a trump!" said Clifford, "and if he swears the world is as good and pure as his own heart, I'll swear he's right.

The ambition of Caesar and of Napoleon pales before that which could not rest until it had seized the minds of men and controlled even their unborn thoughts," said Mr. Wilde. "You are speaking of the King in Yellow," I groaned, with a shudder. "He

It is easy," they grumbled, "to crush those insurgents. One regiment of the Line and horses to drag away the cannon would do it; manifestos and placards won't." This was true. At that late hour, it would still have been easy to quell the insurrection. The insurgents were fatigued, enervated, confused. Discipline was almost entirely wanting.

Ne raillons pas les fous; leur folie dure plus longtemps que la nôtre... Voila toute la différence.