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

Ultimate horror often paralyses memory in a merciful way.

If I could create an ideal world, it would be an England with the fire of the Elizabethans, the correct taste of the Georgians, and the refinement and pure ideals of the Victorians.

Someday our piecing together of knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas we shall either go mad or flee into the safety of a new dark age.

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

Only poetry or madness could do justice to the noises.

I am a student of life, and don't want to miss any experience. There's poetry in this sort of thing, you know--or perhaps you don't know, but it's all the same.