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.

The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them. They walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen.

Creative minds are uneven, and the best of fabrics have their dull spots.

It is an unfortunate fact that every man who seeks to disseminate knowledge must contend not only against ignorance itself, but against false instruction as well. No sooner do we deem ourselves free from a particularly gross superstition, than we are confronted by some enemy to learning who would set aside all the intellectual progress of years, and plunge us back into the darkness of mediaeval disbelief.

If I am mad, it is mercy! May the gods pity the man who in his callousness can remain sane to the hideous end!

In search of Truth the hopeful zealot goes,But all the sadder tums, the more he knows!

Our brains deliberately make us forget things, to prevent insanity