Then time seemed to stop, or rather to lose its directional urgency of movement; it became a place in the open where one stood rather than a low, narrow corridor down which one was hurried.

Devils may be nothing but beings intent on their purpose, which now happens to collide with yours.

Of course, if you assume a big enough conspiracy, you can explain anything, including the cosmos itself.

The result is ... that there's no room left in the world for the weird – though plenty for crude, contemptuous, wisecracking, fun-poking imitations of it.

What is superstition , but misguided, unobjective science? And when it comes down to that, is it to be wondered if people grasp at superstition in this rotten, hate-filled, half-doomed world of today? Lord knows, I'd welcome the blackest of black magic, if it could do anything to stave off the atom bomb.

There was an omnipresent sense of crisis.

Nations are as equal as so many madmen or drunkards.