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.

Nyarlathotep . . . the crawling chaos . . . I am the last . . . I will tell the audient void. . . .

Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth.

It was from the artists and poets that the pertinent answers came, and I know that panic would have broken loose had they been able to compare notes.

But more wonderful than the lore of old men and the lore of books is the secret lore of ocean.

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 most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents... some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new Dark Age.