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

The process of delving into the black abyss is to me the keenest form of fascination.

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.

The end is near. I hear a noise at the door, as of some immense slippery body lumbering against it. It shall not find me. God, that hand! The window! The window!

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

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

No new horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the commonplace.