Quotes from H.P. Lovecraft

resolved to go with bold entreaty whither no man had gone before, and dare the icy deserts through the dark

There was a study called 'Subway Accident,' in which a flock of the vile things were clambering up from some unknown catacomb through a crack in the floor of the Boston Street subway and attacking a crowd of people on the platform. Another showed a dance on Copp's Hill among the tombs with the background of today.

Masson disliked and respected the ferocious little rodents, for he knew the danger that lurked in their flashing, needle-sharp fangs;

The effect was that of a Cyclopean city of no architecture known to man or to human imagination, with vast aggregations of night-black masonry embodying monstrous perversions of geometrical laws and attaining the most grotesque extremes of sinister bizarrerie. There

He led me out of that tangle of alleys in another direction, it seems, for when we sighted a lamp-post we were in a half-familiar street with monotonous rows of mingled tenement blocks and old houses. Charter Street, it turned out to be, but I was too flustered to notice just where we hit

In such surroundings the mind loses its perspective; time and space become trivial and unreal, and echoes of a forgotten prehistoric past beat insistently upon the enthralled consciousness.

We were too late for the elevated, and walked back downtown through Hanover Street. I remember that wall. We switched from Tremont up Beacon, and Pickman left me at the corner of Joy, where I turned off. I never spoke to him again.

It was of this place that Abdul Alhazred the mad poet dreamed on the night before he sang his unexplained couplet: "That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange aeons even death may die.

we all come from onct—Iä! Iä! Cthulhu fhtagn! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah-nagl fhtagn—

History had led me to this archaic grave. History, indeed, was all I had after everything else ended in mocking Satanism.

I felt, in brief agonies of disillusionment, the gigantic blackness of this overwhelming universe, in which my days and the days of my race were as nothing to the shattered stars; a universe in which each action is vain and even the emotion of grief a wasted thing.

It was morning when I saw it, but shadow lurked always there. The trees grew too thickly, and their trunks were too big for any healthy New England wood. There was too much silence in the dim alleys between them, and the floor was too soft with the dank moss and mattings of infinite years of decay.

so that I came to regard it as at least a bearable place to hibernate till one might really live again.

Poor devils! After all, they were not evil things of their kind. They were the men of another age and another order of being. Nature had played a hellish jest on them—as it will on any others that human madness, callousness, or cruelty may hereafter drag up in that hideously dead or sleeping polar waste—and this was their tragic homecoming.

Para mí no tenían nada de grotescos los huesos y los esqueletos esparcidos por las criptas de piedra cavadas en las profundidades de los cimientos. En mi fantasía asociaba estas cosas con los hechos cotidianos y los hallaba más reales que las figuras en colores de seres vivos que veía en muchos libros mohosos.

that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.

I don't believe that there is any fourth dimension, and I emphatically do not believe in Tao.

Now, as the baying of that dead, fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings circles closer and closer, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the unnamed and unnamable.

They were the makers and enslavers of that life, and above all doubt the originals of the fiendish elder myths

Carter did not wish to meet a bhole, so

I hate the moon—I am afraid of it—for when it shines on certain scenes familiar and loved it sometimes makes them unfamiliar and hideous. It

It is only in the terrible phantasms of drugs or delirium that any other man can have such a descent as mine.

The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.

It is no news to me that tales of hidden races are as old as all mankind.