A serious adult story must be true to something in life. Since marvel tales cannot be true to the events of life, they must shift their emphasis towards something to which they can be true; namely, certain wistful or restless moods of the human spirit, wherein it seeks to weave gossamer ladders of escape from the galling tyranny of time, space, and natural law.

Blue, green, grey, white, or black; smooth, ruffled, or mountainous; that ocean is not silent.

There are black zones of shadow close to our daily paths, and now and then some evil soul breaks a passage through. When that happens, the man who knows must strike before reckoning the consequences.

I have seen the dark universe yawning Where the black planets roll without aim, Where they roll in their horror unheeded, Without knowledge, or lustre, or name.

Only poetry or madness could do justice to the noises.

Life is a hideous thing.

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.