Quotes from H.P. Lovecraft

Atal felt a spectral change in the air, as if the laws of earth were bowing to greater laws.

I shall never be very merry or very sad, for I am more prone to analyse than to feel.

When Randolph Carter was thirty he lost the key of the gate of dreams.

I never ask a man what his business is, for it never interests me. What I ask him about are his thoughts and dreams.

Almost nobody dances sober, unless they happen to be insane.

Success is a relative thing?and the victory of a boy at marbles is equal to the victory of an Octavius at Actium when measured by the scale of cosmic infinity.

The daemon wind died down, and the bloated, fungoid moon sank reddeningly in the west.

Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness.

The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them. They walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen.

Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places.

The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.

I felt myself on the edge of the world; peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night.

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 everyday life.

There are horrors beyond life's edge that we do not suspect, and once in a while man's evil prying calls them just within our range.

I like coffee exceedingly...

Through all this horror my cat stalked unperturbed. Once I saw him monstrously perched atop a mountain of bones, and wondered at the secrets that might lie behind his yellow eyes.

I am so beastly tired of mankind and the world that nothing can interest me unless it contains a couple of murders on each page or deals with the horrors unnameable and unaccountable that leer down from the external universes.

Blue, green, grey, white, or black; smooth, ruffled, or mountainous; that ocean is not silent.

I have harnessed the shadows that stride from world to world to sow death and madness.

The basis of all true cosmic horror is violation of the order of nature, and the profoundest violations are always the least concrete and describable.

Only poetry or madness could do justice to the noises...

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.

Who knows the end? What has risen may sink, and what has sunk may rise. Loathsomeness waits and dreams in the deep, and decay spreads over the tottering cities of men.

incurable lover of the grotesque