The cat is cryptic, and close to strange things which men cannot see.
When Randolph Carter was thirty he lost the key of the gate of dreams.
Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places.
I felt myself on the edge of the world; peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night.
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.