That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange aeons even death may die.

I could not help feeling that they were evil things -- mountains of madness whose farther slopes looked out over some accursed ultimate abyss.

If religion were true, its followers would not try to bludgeon their young into an artificial conformity; but would merely insist on their unbending quest for truth, irrespective of artificial backgrounds or practical consequences.

But are not the dreams of poets and the tales of travellers notoriously false?

Life has never interested me so much as the escape from life.

It is true that I have sent six bullets through the head of my best friend, and yet I hope to show by this statement that I am not his murderer.

That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange aeons even death may die.