hp-lovecraft.xml

<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.amk.ca/qel/qel.css"?>
<quotations
  xmlns="http://www.amk.ca/qel/"
  xmlns:rdf="http://www.w3.org/1999/02/22-rdf-syntax-ns#"
  xmlns:rdfs="http://www.w3.org/2000/01/rdf-schema#">
  <title>Quotations from H.P. Lovecraft</title>
  <editor>A.M. Kuchling</editor>
  <description>Quotations from H.P. Lovecraft's works and letters.</description>
  <quotation id="q1" date="1919">
    <p>
      My opinion of my whole experience varies from time to time. In
broad daylight, and at most seasons I am apt to think the greater part
of it a mere dream; but sometimes in the autumn, about two in the
morning when winds and animals howl dismally, there comes from
inconceivable depths below a damnable suggestions of rhythmical
throbbing ... and I feel that the transition of Juan Romero was a
terrible one indeed.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Transition of Juan Romero"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q2">
    <p>
      There be those who say that things and places have souls, and
there be those who say they have not; I dare not say, myself, but I
will tell of The Street.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Street"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q3">
    <p>
      But are not the dreams of poets and the tales of travellers
notoriously false?
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Street"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q4">
    <p>
      In London there is a man who screams when the church bells ring.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Descendant"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q5" date="1917">
    <p>
      Men of broader intellect know that there is no sharp distinction
betwixt the real and the unreal...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Tomb"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q6" date="1917">
    <p>
      I have dwelt ever in realms apart from the visible world;
spending my youth and adolescence in ancient and little-known books,
and in roaming the fields and groves of the region near my ancestral
home. I do not think that what I read in these books or saw in these
fields and groves was exactly what other boys read and saw there; but
of this I must say little, since detailed speech would but confirm
those cruel slanders upon my intellect which I sometimes overhear from
the whispers of the stealthy attendants around me.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Tomb"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q7" date="1918">
    <p>
      Just before dawn Arcturus winks ruddily from above the cemetery
on the low hillock, and Coma Berenices shimmers weirdly afar off in
the mysterious east; but still the Pole Star leers down from the same
place in the black vault, winking hideously like an insane watching
eye which strives to convey some strange message, yet recalls nothing
save that it once had a message to convey. Sometimes, when it is
cloudy, I can sleep.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Polaris"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q8" date="1919">
    <p>
      Sometimes I believe that this less material life is our truer
life, and that our vain presence on the terraqueous globe is itself
the secondary or merely virtual phenomenon.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Beyond The Wall of Sleep"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q9" date="1919">
    <p>
      But more wonderful than the lore of old men and the lore of
books is the secret lore of ocean.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The White Ship"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q10" date="1919">
    <p>
      Blue, green, grey, white, or black; smooth, ruffled, or
mountainous; that ocean is not silent.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The White Ship"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q11" date="1919">
    <p>
      Ocean is more ancient than the mountains, and freighted with the
memories and the dreams of Time.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The White Ship"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q12" date="1919">
    <p>
      In the land of Sona-Nyl there is neither time nor space, neither
suffering nor death.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The White Ship"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q13" date="1919">
    <p>
      I yearned mightily to enter this fascinating yet repellent city,
and besought the bearded man to land me at the stone pier by the huge
carven gate Akariel; but he gently denied my wish, saying: "Into
Thalarion, the City of a Thousand Wonders, many have passed but none
returned. Therein walk only daemons and mad things that are no longer
men, and the streets are white with the unburied bones of those who
have looked upon the eidolon Lathi, that reigns over the city."
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The White Ship"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q14" date="1920">
    <p>
      For the cat is cryptic, and close to Aegyptus, and bearer of
tales from forgotten cities in Meroë and Ophir. He is the kin of the
jungle's lords, and heir to the secrets of hoary and sinister Africa.
The Sphinx is his cousin, and he speaks her language; but he is more
ancient than the Sphinx, and remembers that which she hath forgotten.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Cats of Ulthar"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q15" date="1920">
    <p>
      Very sleek and fat did the cats appear, and sonorous with
purring content.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Cats of Ulthar"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q16" date="1920">
    <p>
      But he was unmoved, and cried: "If I am mad, it is mercy! May
the gods pity the man who in his callousness can remain sane to the
hideous end!"
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Temple"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q17" date="1920">
    <p>
      Life is a hideous thing, and from the background behind what we
know of it peer daemoniacal hints of truth which make it sometimes a
thousandfold more hideous. Science, already oppressive with its
shocking revelations, will perhaps be the ultimate exterminator of our
human species -- if separate species we be -- for its reserve of
unguessed horrors could never be borne by mortal brains if loosed upon
the world.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q18" date="1920">
    <p>
      If we knew what we are, we should do as Sir Arthur Jermyn did;
and Arthur Jermyn soaked himself in oil and set fire to his clothing
one night.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q19" date="1920">
    <p>
      Kuranes was not modern, and did not think like others who wrote.
Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth,
and to shew in naked ugliness the foul thing that is reality, Kuranes
sought for beauty alone.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Celephaïs"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q20" date="1920">
    <p>
      There are not many persons who know what wonders are opened to
them in the stories and visions of their youth; for when as children
we learn and dream, we think but half-formed thoughts, and when as men
we try to remember, we are dulled and prosaic with the poison of life.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Celephaïs"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q21" date="1920">
    <p>
      But some of us awake in the night with strange phantasms of
enchanted hills and gardens, of fountains that sing in the sun, of
golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down
to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and of shadowy companies of
heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the edges of thick
forests; and then we know that we have looked back through the ivory
gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and
unhappy.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Celephaïs"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q22" date="1920">
    <p>
      That Crawford Tillinghast should ever have studied science and
philosophy was a mistake. These things should be left to the frigid
and impersonal investigator, for they offer two equally tragic
alternatives to the man of feeling and action; despair if he fail in
his quest, and terrors unutterable and unimaginable if he succeed.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"From Beyond"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q23" date="1920">
    <p>
      We shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at
which cats prick up their ears after midnight.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"From Beyond"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q24" date="1920">
    <p>
      I have harnessed the shadows that stride from world to world to
sow death and madness...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"From Beyond"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q25" date="1920">
    <p>
      Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Picture in the House"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q26" date="1920">
    <p>
      For them are the catacombs of Ptolemais, and the carven mausolea
of the nightmare countries. They climb to the moonlit towers of ruined
Rhine castles, and falter down black cobwebbed steps beneath the
scattered stones of forgotten cities in Asia. The haunted wood and the
desolate mountain are their shrines, and they linger around the
sinister monoliths on uninhabited islands. But the true epicure in the
terrible, to whom a new thrill of unutterable ghastliness is the chief
end and justification of existence, esteems most of all the ancient,
lonely farmhouses of backwoods New England; for there the dark
elements of strength, solitude, grotesqueness and ignorance combine to
form the perfection of the hideous.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Picture in the House"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q27" date="1920">
    <p>
      By necessity practical and by philosophy stern, these folk were
not beautiful in their sins. Erring as all mortals must, they were
forced by their rigid code to seek concealment above all else; so that
they came to use less and less taste in what they concealed.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Picture in the House"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q28" date="1920">
    <p>
      Only the silent, sleepy, staring houses in the backwoods can
tell all that has lain hidden since the early days; and they are not
communicative, being loath to shake off the drowsiness which helps
them forget. Sometimes one feels that it would be merciful to tear
down these houses, for they must often dream.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Picture in the House"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q29" date="1920">
    <p>
      Queer haow a <em>cravin'</em> gits a holt on ye -- As ye love
the Almighty, young man, don't tell nobody, but I swar ter Gawd thet
picter begun ta make me <em>hungry fer victuals I couldn't raise nor
buy</em> -- here, set still, what's ailin' ye? ...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Picture in the House"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q30" date="1920">
    <p>
      These folk say that on a table in a bare room on the ground
floor are many peculiar bottles, in each a small piece of lead
suspended pendulum-wise from a string. And they say that the Terrible
Old Man talks to these bottles, addressing them by such names as Jack,
Scar-Face, Long Tom, Spanish Joe, Peters, and Mate Ellis, and that
whenever he speaks to a bottle the little lead pendulum within makes
certain definite vibrations as if in answer. Those who have watched
the tall, lean, Terrible Old Man in these peculiar conversations, do
not watch him again.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Terrible Old Man"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q31" date="1920">
    <p>
      I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces,
and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously
repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of
monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the
stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely
places.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Nyarlathotep"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q32" date="1920">
    <p>
      I remember when Nyarlathotep came to my city the great, the old,
the terrible city of unnumbered crimes.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Nyarlathotep"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q33" date="1921">
    <p>
      "That is not dead which can eternal lie / And with strange aeons
even death may die."
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Quoting the <cite>Necronomicon</cite>, in "The Nameless City"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q34" date="1921">
    <p>
      Wherefore do ye toil; is it not that ye may live and be happy?
And if ye toil only that ye may toil more, when shall happiness find
you? Ye toil to live, but is not life made of beauty and song? ...
Toil without song is like a weary journey without an end. Were not
death more pleasing?
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Quest of Iranon"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q35" date="1921">
    <p>
      Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear
and sadness.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Outsider"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q36" date="1921">
    <p>
      Despite my most careful searches and investigations, I have
never since been able to find the Rue d'Auseil. But I am not wholly
sorry; either for this or for the loss in undreamable abysses of the
closely written sheets which alone could have explained the music of
Erich Zann.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Music of Erich Zann"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q37" date="1921">
    <p>
      Memories and possibilities are ever more hideous than realities.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Herbert West -- Re-Animator"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q38" date="1921">
    <p>
      I could not but feel that some noxious marine mind had declared
a war of extermination upon all the solid ground, perhaps abetted by
the angry sky.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft and Winifred Virginia Jackson</author>
      <source>"The Crawling Chaos"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q39" date="1921">
    <p>
      And when the smoke cleared away, and I sought to look upon the
earth, I beheld against the background of cold, humorous stars only
the dying sun and the pale mournful planets searching for their
sister.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft and Winifred Virginia Jackson</author>
      <source>"The Crawling Chaos"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q40" date="1921">
    <p>
      When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of
existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water
that torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victim's
body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Ex Oblivione"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q41" date="1921">
    <p>
      ... for doubt and secrecy are the lure of lures, and no new
horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the commonplace.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Ex Oblivione"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q42" date="1922">
    <p>
      It is uncommon to fire all six shots of a revolver with great
suddenness when one would probably be sufficient, but many things in
the life of Herbert West were uncommon.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Herbert West--Reanimator"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q43" date="1922">
    <p>
      It is natural that such a thing as a dead man's scream should
give horror, for it is obviously not a pleasing or ordinary
occurrence; but I was used to similar experiences, hence suffered on
this occasion only because of a particular circumstance.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Herbert West--Reanimator"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q44" date="1922">
    <p>
      ... West had emerged with a soul calloused and seared, and a
hardened eye which sometimes glanced with a kind of hideous and
calculating appraisal at men of especially sensitive brain and
especially vigorous physique. Toward the last I became acutely afraid
of West, for he began to look at me that way.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Herbert West--Reanimator"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q45" date="1922">
    <p>
      Their outlines were human, semi-human, fractionally human, and
not human at all -- the horde was grotesquely heterogeneous.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Herbert West--Reanimator"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q46" date="1922">
    <p>
      They imply that I am either a madman or a murderer -- probably I
am mad. But I might not be mad if those accursed tomb-legions had not
been so silent.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Herbert West--Reanimator"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q47" date="1922">
    <p>
      Men of learning suspect it little, and ignore it mostly.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Hypnos"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q48" date="1922">
    <p>
      Among the agonies of these after days is that chief of torments
-- inarticulateness.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Hypnos"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q49" date="1922">
    <p>
      There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, and
wood-wind, on which St. John and I sometimes produced dissonances of
exquisite morbidity and cacodaemoniacal ghastliness ...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Hound"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q50" date="1922">
    <p>
      We were no vulgar ghouls, but worked only under certain
conditions of mood, landscape, environment, weather, season, and
moonlight. These pastimes were to us the most exquisite form of
aesthetic expression, and we gave their details a fastidious technical
care.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Hound"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q51" date="1922">
    <p>
      Alien it indeed was to all art and literature which sane and
balanced readers know, but we recognized it as the thing hinted of in
the forbidden Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>The first mention of the Necronomicon, in "The Hound"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q52" date="1922">
    <p>
      As we hastened from that abhorrent spot, the stolen amulet in
St. John's pocket, we thought we saw the bats descend in a body to the
earth we had so lately rifled, as if seeking for some cursed and
unholy nourishment. But the autumn moon shone weak and pale, and we
could not be sure. So, too, as we sailed the next day away from
Holland to our home, we thought we heard the faint distant baying of
some gigantic hound in the background. But the autumn wind moaned sad
and wan, and we could not be sure.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Hound"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q53" date="1922">
    <p>
      History had led me to this archaic grave. History, indeed, was
all I had after everything else ended in mocking Satanism.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Lurking Fear"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q54" date="1923">
    <p>
      Besides, he added, my constant talk about "unnamable" and
"unmentionable" things was a very puerile device, quite in keeping
with my lowly standing as an author.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Unnamable"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q55" date="1923">
    <p>
      We know things, he said, only through our five senses or our
religious intuitions; wherefore it is quite impossible to refer to any
object or spectacle which cannot be clearly depicted by the solid
definitions of fact or the correct doctrines of theology -- preferably
those of the Congregationalists, with whatever modifications tradition
and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle may supply.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Unnamable"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q56" date="1923">
    <p>
      The witchcraft terror is a horrible ray of light on what was
stewing in men's crushed brains, but even that is a trifle. There was
no beauty; no freedom -- we can see that from the architectural and
household remains, and the poisonous sermons of the cramped divines.
And inside that rusted iron strait-jacket lurked gibbering
hideousness, perversion, and diabolism. Here, truly, was the
apotheosis of the unnamable.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Unnamable"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q57" date="1923">
    <p>
      I was far from home, and the spell of the eastern sea was upon
me.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Festival"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q58" date="1923">
    <p>
      It was the Yuletide, that men call Christmas though they know in
their hearts it is older than Bethlehem and Babylon, older than
Memphis and mankind.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Festival"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q59" date="1923">
    <p>
      I was the only one who came back that night to the old fishing
town as legend bade, for only the poor and the lonely remember.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Festival"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q60" date="1923">
    <p>
      Out of the unimaginable blackness beyond the gangrenous glare of
that cold flame, out of the Tartarean leagues through which that oily
river rolled uncanny, unheard, and unsuspected, there flopped
rhythmically a horde of tame, trained, hybrid winged things that no
sound eye could ever wholly grasp, or sound brain ever wholly
remember. They were not altogether crows, nor moles, nor buzzards, nor
ants, nor vampire bats, nor decomposed human beings, but something I
cannot and must not recall.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Festival"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q61" date="1923">
    <p>
      "The nethermost caverns," wrote the mad Arab, "are not for the
fathoming of eyes that see; for their marvels are strange and
terrific. Cursed the ground where dead thoughts live new and oddly
bodied, and evil the mind that is held by no head."
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Festival", quoting the <cite>Necronomicon</cite></source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q62" date="1923">
    <p>
      For it is of old rumour that the soul of the devil-bought hastes
not from his charnel clay, but fats and instructs <em>the very worm
that gnaws</em>; till out of corruption horrid life springs, and the
dull scavengers of earth wax crafty to vex it and swell monstrous to
plague it. Great holes secretly are digged where earth's pores ought
to suffice, and things have learnt to walk that ought to crawl.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Festival", quoting the <cite>Necronomicon</cite></source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q63" date="1923">
    <p>
      Through all this horror my cat stalked unperturbed. Once I saw
him monstrously perched atop a mountain of bones, and wondered at the
secrets that might lie behind his yellow eyes.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Rats in the Walls"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q64" date="1923">
    <p>
      Ultimate horror often paralyses memory in a merciful way.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Rats in the Walls"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q65" date="1923">
    <p>
      Prying curiosity means death.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Rats in the Walls"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q66" date="1923">
    <p>
      They must know it was the rats; the slithering, scurrying rats
whose scampering will never let me sleep; the daemon rats that race
behind the padding in this room and beckon me down to greater horrors
than I have ever known; the rats they can never hear; the rats, the
rats in the walls.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Rats in the Walls"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q67" date="1924">
    <p>
      I dreamed that I was in the grasp of a great and horrible paw; a
yellow, hairy, five-clawed paw which had reached out of the earth to
crush and engulf me. And when I stopped to reflect what the paw was,
it seemed to me that it was Egypt.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Under the Pyramids"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q68" date="1924">
    <p>
      But I survived, and I know it was only a dream.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Under the Pyramids"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q69" date="1924">
    <p>
      From even the greatest of horrors irony is seldom absent.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Shunned House"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q70" date="1924">
    <p>
      We were not, as I have said, in any sense childishly
superstitious, but scientific study and reflection had taught us that
the known universe of three dimensions embraces the merest fraction of
the whole cosmos of substance and energy. In this case an overwhelming
preponderance of evidence from numerous authentic sources pointed to
the tenacious existence of certain forces of great power and, so far
as the human point of view is concerned, exceptional malignancy.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Shunned House"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q71" date="1924">
    <p>
      There are horrors beyond horrors, and this was one of those
nuclei of all dreamable hideousness which the cosmos saves to blast an
accursed and unhappy few.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Shunned House"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q72" date="1924">
    <p>
      The next spring no more pale grass and strange weeds came up in
the shunned house's terraced garden, and shortly afterward Carrington
Harris rented the place. It it still spectral, but its strangeness
fascinates me, and I shall find mixed with my relief a queer regret
when it is torn down to make way for a tawdry shop or vulgar apartment
building. The barren old trees in the yard have begun to bear small,
sweet apples, and last year the birds nested in their gnarled boughs.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Shunned House"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q73" date="1925">
    <p>
      This was a simple explanation which everyone could understand,
and because Malone was not a simple person he perceived that he had
better let it suffice.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Horror at Red Hook"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q74" date="1925">
    <p>
      More people enter Red Hook than leave it -- or at least, than
leave it by the landward side -- and those who are not loquacious are
the likeliest to leave.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Horror at Red Hook"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q75" date="1925">
    <p>
      I saw him on a sleepless night when I was walking desperately to
save my soul and my vision.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"He"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q76" date="1925">
    <p>
      My coming to New York had been a mistake; for whereas I had
looked for poignant wonder and inspiration in the teeming labyrinths
of ancient streets that twist endlessly from forgotten courts and
squares and waterfronts to courts and squares and waterfronts equally
forgotten, and in the Cyclopean modern towers and pinnacles that rise
blackly Babylonian under waning moons, I had found instead only a
sense of horror and oppression which threatened to master, paralyse,
and annihilate me.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"He"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q77" date="1925">
    <p>
      So instead of the poems I had hoped for, there came only a
shuddering blankness and ineffable loneliness; and I saw at last a
fearful truth which no one had ever dared to breathe before -- the
unwhisperable secret of secrets -- that fact that this city of stone
and stridor is not a sentient perpetuation of Old New York as London
is of Old London and Paris of Old Paris, but that it is in fact quite
dead, its sprawling body imperfectly embalmed and infested with queer
animate things which have nothing to do with it as it was in life.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"He"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q78" date="1926">
    <p>
      Then one summer there came a philosopher into Kingsport. His
name was Thomas Olney, and he taught ponderous things in a college by
Narragansett Bay. With stout wife and romping children he came, and
his eyes were weary with seeing the same things for many years, and
thinking the same well-disciplined thoughts.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Strange High House in the Mist"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q79" date="1926">
    <p>
      Then Olney saw lingering against the translucent squares of each
of the little dim windows in succession a queer black outline as the
caller moved inquisitively about before leaving; and he was glad his
host had not answered the knocking. For there are strange objects in
the great abyss, and the seeker of dreams must take care not to stir
up or meet the wrong ones.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Strange High House in the Mist"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q80" date="1926">
    <p>
      Then the shadows began to gather; first little furtive ones
under the table, and then bolder ones in the dark panelled corners.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Strange High House in the Mist"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q81" date="1926">
    <p>
      And ever since that hour, through dull dragging years of
greyness and weariness, the philosopher has laboured and eaten and
slept and done uncomplaining the suitable deeds of a citizen. Not any
more does he long for the magic of farther hills, or sigh for secrets
that peer like green reefs from a bottomless sea. The sameness of his
days no longer gives him sorrow, and well-disciplined thoughts have
grown enough for his imagination.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Strange High House in the Mist"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q82" date="1926">
    <p>
      And they do not wish quaint Kingsport with its climbing lanes
and archaic gables to drag listless down the years while voice by
voice the laughing chorus grows stronger and wilder in that unknown
and terrible eyrie where mists and the dreams of mists stop to rest on
their way from the sea to the skies.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Strange High House in the Mist"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q83" date="1926">
    <p>
      All these things, however, the Elder Ones only may decide; and
meanwhile the morning mist still comes up by that lonely vertiginous
peak with the steep ancient house, that grey low-eaved house where
none is seen but where evening brings furtive lights while the north
wind tells of strange revels.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Strange High House in the Mist"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q84" date="1926">
    <p>
      And when tales fly thick in the grottoes of tritons, and conches
in seaweed cities blow wild tunes learned from the Elder Ones, then
great eager vapours flock to heaven laden with lore; and Kingsport,
nestling uneasy on its lesser cliffs below that awesome hanging
sentinel of rock, sees oceanward only a mystic whiteness, as if the
cliff's rim were the rim of all earth, and the solemn bells of the
buoys tolled free in the aether of faery.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Strange High House in the Mist"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q85" date="1926">
    <p>
      The only saving grace of the present is that it's too damned
stupid to question the past very closely.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Pickman's Model"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q86" date="1926">
    <p>
      ... another conception somehow shocked me more than all the rest
-- a scene in an unknown vault, where scores of the beasts crowded
about one who held a well-known Boston guide-book and was evidently
reading aloud. All were pointing to a certain passage, and every face
seemed so distorted with epileptic and reverberant laughter that I
almost thought I heard the fiendish echoes. The title of the picture
was, "Holmes, Lowell, and Longfellow Lie Buried in Mount Auburn".
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Pickman's Model"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q87" date="1926">
    <p>
      The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability
of the human mind to correlate all its contents.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Call of Cthulhu"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q88" date="1926">
    <p>
      We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black
seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Call of Cthulhu"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q89" date="1926">
    <p>
      The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto
harmed us little; but 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 deadly light into the peace and safety of
a new dark age.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Call of Cthulhu"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q90" date="1926">
    <p>
      That glimpse, like all dread glimpses of truth, flashed out from
an accidental piecing together of separated things -- in this case an
old newspaper item and the notes of a dead professor.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Call of Cthulhu"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q91" date="1926">
    <p>
      Above these apparent hieroglyphics was a figure of evidently
pictorial intent, though its impressionistic execution forbade a very
clear idea of its nature. It seemed to be a sort of monster, or symbol
representing a monster, of a form which only a diseased fancy could
conceive. If I say that my somewhat extravagant imagination yielded
simultaneous pictures of an octopus, a dragon, and a human caricature,
I shall not be unfaithful to the spirit of the thing. A pulpy,
tentacled head surmounted a grotesque and scaly body with rudimentary
wings, but it was the <em>general outline</em> of the whole which made
it most shockingly frightful.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Call of Cthulhu"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q92" date="1926">
    <p>
      What seemed to be the main document was headed "CTHULHU CULT" in
characters painstakingly printed to avoid the erroneous reading of a
word so unheard-of.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Call of Cthulhu"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q93" date="1926">
    <p>
      Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. ("In his
house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.")
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Call of Cthulhu"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q94" date="1926">
    <p>
      When the stars were right, They could plunge from world to world
through the sky; but when the stars were wrong, They could not live.
But although They no longer lived, They would never really die.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Call of Cthulhu"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q95" date="1926">
    <p>
      That cult would never die till the stars came right again, and
the secret priests would take great Cthulhu from His tomb to revive
His subjects and resume His rule of earth. The time would be easy to
know, for then mankind would have become as the Great Old Ones; free
and wild and beyond good and evil, with laws and morals thrown aside
and all men shouting and killing and revelling in joy.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Call of Cthulhu"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q96" date="1926">
    <p>
      I now felt gnawing at my vitals that dark terror which will
never leave me till I, too, am at rest; "accidentally" or otherwise.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Call of Cthulhu"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q97" date="1926">
    <p>
      It is a mistake to fancy that horror is associated inextricably
with darkness, silence, and solitude. I found it in the glare of
mid-afternoon, in the clangour of a metropolis, and in the teeming
midst of a shabby and commonplace rooming-house with a prosaic
landlady and two stalwart men by my side.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Cool Air"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q98" date="1926">
    <p>
      Calm, lasting beauty comes only in dream, and this solace the
world had thrown away when in its worship of the real it threw away
the secrets of childhood and innocence.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Silver Key"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q99" date="1926">
    <p>
      It was after this that he cultivated deliberate illusion, and
dabbled in the notions of the bizarre and the eccentric as an antidote
for the commonplace. Most of these, however, soon shewed their poverty
and barrenness; and he saw that the popular doctrines of occultism are
as dry and inflexible as those of science, yet without even the
slender palliative of truth to redeem them.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Silver Key"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q100" date="1926">
    <p>
      Gross stupidity, falsehood, and muddled thinking are not dream;
and form no escape from life to a mind trained above their own level.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Silver Key"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q101" date="1926">
    <p>
      There are twists of time and space, of vision and reality, which
only a dreamer can divine; and from what I know of Carter I think he
has merely found a way to traverse these mazes. Whether or not he will
ever come back, I cannot say.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Silver Key"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q102" date="1926">
    <p>
      Certainly, I look forward impatiently to the sight of that great
silver key, for in its cryptical arabesques there may stand symbolised
all the aims and mysteries of a blindly impersonal cosmos.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Silver Key"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q103" date="1927">
    <p>
      It was nothing of this earth, but a piece of the great outside;
and as such dowered with outside properties and obedient to outside
laws.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Colour Out of Space"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q104" date="1927">
    <p>
      No sane wholesome colours were anywhere to be seen except in the
green grass and leafage; but everywhere those hectic and prismatic
variants of some diseased, underlying primary tone without a place
among the known tints of earth. The Dutchman's breeches became a thing
of sinister menace, and the bloodroots grew insolent in their
chromatic perversion.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Colour Out of Space"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q105" date="1927">
    <p>
      One may picture him yet as he was in those days; tall, slim, and
blond, with studious eyes and a slight stoop, dressed somewhat
carelessly, and giving a dominant impression of harmless awkwardness
rather than attractiveness.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Case of Charles Dexter Ward"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q106" date="1927">
    <p>
      The nurse used to stop and sit on the benches of Prospect
Terrace to chat with policemen; and one of the child's first memories
was of the great westward sea of hazy roofs and domes and steeples and
far hills which he saw one winter afternoon from that great railed
embankment, all violet and mystic against a fevered, apocalyptic
sunset of reds and golds and purples and curious greens. The vast
marble dome of the State House stood out in massive silhouette, its
crowning statue haloed fantastically by a break in one of the tinted
stratus clouds that barred the flaming sky.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Case of Charles Dexter Ward"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q107" date="1927">
    <p>
      I say to you againe, doe not call up Any that you can not put
downe; by the Which I meane, Any that can in Turne call up somewhat
against you, whereby your Powerfullest Devices may not be of use. Ask
of the Lesser, lest the Greater shall not wish to Answer, and shall
commande more than you.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>A letter from Simon Orne, in "The Case of Charles Dexter Ward"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q108" date="1927">
    <p>
      Just beyond Elder Snow's church some of the men turned back to
take a parting look at Providence lying outspread under the early
spring stars. Steeples and gables rose dark and shapely, and salt
breezes swept up gently from the cove north of the Bridge. Vega was
climbing above the great hill across the water, whose crest of trees
was broken by the roof-line of the unfinished College edifice. At the
foot of that hill, and along the narrow mounting lanes of its side,
the old town dreamed; Old Providence, for whose safety and sanity so
monstrous and colossal a blasphemy was about to be wiped out.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Case of Charles Dexter Ward"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q109" date="1927">
    <p>
      Old Providence! It was this place and the mysterious forces of
its long, continuous history which had brought him into being, and
which had drawn him back toward marvels and secrets whose boundaries
no prophet might fix. Here lay the arcana, wondrous or dreadful as the
case might be, for which all his years of travel and application had
been preparing him.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Case of Charles Dexter Ward"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q110" date="1927">
    <p>
      A taxicab whirled him through Post Office Square with its
glimpse of the river, the old Market House, and the head of the bay,
and up the steep curved slope of Waterman Street to Prospect, where
the vast gleaming dome and sunset-flushed Ionic columns of the
Christian Science Church beckoned northward. Then eight squares past
the fine old estates his childish eyes had known, and the quaint brick
sidewalks so often trodden by his youthful feet. And at last the
little white overtaken farmhouse on the right, on the left the classic
Adam porch and stately facade of the great brick house where he was
born. It was twilight, and Charles Dexter Ward had come home.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Case of Charles Dexter Ward"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q111" date="1927">
    <p>
      Memory sometimes makes merciful deletions.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Case of Charles Dexter Ward"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q112" date="1927">
    <p>
      "I have brought to light a monstrous abnormality, but I did it
for the sake of knowledge. Now for the sake of all life and Nature you
must help me thrust it back into the dark again."
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Charles Dexter Ward's letter, in "The Case of Charles Dexter Ward"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q113" date="1927">
    <p>
      That Thomas Sabin's Boston coach was "damn'd uncomfortable" old
letters may well have told; but what healthy antiquarian could recall
how the creaking of Epenetus Olney's new signboard (the gaudy crown he
set up after he took to calling his tavern the Crown Coffee House) was
exactly like the first few notes of the new jazz piece all the radios
in Pawtuxet were playing?
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Case of Charles Dexter Ward"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q114" date="1927">
    <p>
      Mystery hung about it as clouds about a fabulous unvisited
mountain; and as Carter stood breathless and expectant on that
balustraded parapet there swept up to him the poignancy and suspense
of almost-vanished memory, the pain of lost things and the maddening
need to place again what once had been an awesome and momentous place.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q115" date="1927">
    <p>
      In the tunnels of that twisted wood, whose low prodigious oaks
twine groping boughs and shine dim with the phosphorescence of strange
fungi, dwell the furtive and secretive zoogs; who know many obscure
secrets of the dream-world and a few of the waking world, since the
wood at two places touches the lands of men, though it would be
disastrous to say where.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q116" date="1927">
    <p>
      There he would turn sharply aside, for at that spot a mighty
slab of stone rests on the forest floor; and those who have dared
approach it say that it bears an iron ring three feet wide.
Remembering the archaic circle of great mossy rocks, and what it was
possibly set up for, the Zoogs do not pause near that expansive slab
with its huge ring; for they realise that all which is forgotten need
not necessarily be dead, and they would not like to see the slab rise
slowly and deliberately.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q117" date="1927">
    <p>
      So, Atal said, it would be much better to let all gods alone
except in tactful prayers.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q118" date="1927">
    <p>
      A yowl now came from the farther peak, and the old leader paused
abruptly in his conversation. It was one of the army's outposts,
stationed on the highest of the mountains to watch the one foe which
Earth's cats fear; the very large and peculiar cats from Saturn, who
for some reason have not been oblivious of the charm of our moon's
dark side. They are leagued by treaty with the evil toad-things, and
are notoriously hostile to our earthly cats; so that at this juncture
a meeting would have been a somewhat grave matter.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q119" date="1927">
    <p>
      But Carter preferred to look at them than at his captors, which
were indeed shocking and uncouth black beings with smooth, oily,
whale-like surfaces, unpleasant horns that curved inward toward each
other, bat-wings whose beating made no sound, ugly prehensile paws,
and barbed tails that lashed needlessly and disquietingly. And worst
of all, they never spoke or laughed, and never smiled because they had
no faces at all to smile with, but only a suggestive blankness where a
face ought to be. All they ever did was clutch and fly and tickle;
that was the way of night-gaunts.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q120" date="1927">
    <p>
      There, on a tombstone of 1768 stolen from the Granary Burying
Ground in Boston, sat a ghoul which was once the artist Richard Upton
Pickman.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q121" date="1927">
    <p>
      For a ghoul is a ghoul, and at best an unpleasant companion for
man.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q122" date="1927">
    <p>
      Carter was there to greet them, and the sight of shapely,
wholesome cats was indeed good for his eyes after the things he had
seen and walked with in the abyss.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q123" date="1927">
    <p>
      A blessed haze lies upon all this region, wherein is held a
little more of the sunlight than other places hold, and a little more
of the summer's humming music of birds and bees; so that men walk
through it as through a faery place, and feel greater joy and wonder
than they ever afterward remember.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q124" date="1927">
    <p>
      Once a lookout reported fires on the hills to the east, but the
sleepy captain said they had better not be looked at too much, since
it was highly uncertain just who or what had lit them.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q125" date="1927">
    <p>
      It seems that these men have an aura not of earth about them,
though that is not the reason why no cat will sail on their ships. The
reason for this is that Inquanok holds shadows which no cat can
endure, so that in all that cold twilight realm there is never a
cheering purr or a homely mew.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q126" date="1927">
    <p>
      Then suddenly the clouds thinned and the stars shone spectrally
above. All below was still black, but those pallid beacons in the sky
seemed alive with a meaning and directiveness they had never possessed
elsewhere. It was not that the figures of the constellations were
different, but that the same familiar shapes now revealed a
significance they had formerly failed to make plain. Everything
focussed toward the north; every curve and asterism of the glittering
sky became part of a vast design whose function was to hurry first the
eye and then the whole observer onward to some secret and terrible
goal of convergence beyond the frozen waste that stretched endlessly
ahead.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q127" date="1927">
    <p>
      It was a song, but not the song of any voice. Night and the
spheres sang it, and it was old when space and Nyarlathotep and the
Other Gods were born.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q128" date="1928">
    <p>
      Then too, the natives are mortally afraid of the numerous
whippoorwills which grow vocal on warm nights. It is vowed that the
birds are psychopomps lying in wait for the souls of the dying, and
that they time their eerie cries in unison with the sufferer's
struggling breath. If they can catch the fleeing soul when it leaves
the body, they instantly flutter away chittering in daemoniac
laughter; but if they fail, they subside gradually into a disappointed
silence.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dunwich Horror"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q129" date="1928">
    <p>
      The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be.
Not in the spaces we know, but <em>between</em> them, They walk serene
and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Quoting from the <cite>Necronomicon</cite> in "The Dunwich Horror"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q130" date="1928">
    <p>
      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. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old,
and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have
trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one
can behold Them as They tread.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Quoting from the <cite>Necronomicon</cite> in "The Dunwich Horror"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q131" date="1928">
    <p>
      They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where the Words have
been spoken and the Rites howled through at their Seasons. The wind
gibbers with Their voices, and the earth mutters with Their
consciousness. They bend the forest and crush the city, yet may not
forest or city behold the hand that smites. Kadath in the cold waste
hath known Them, and what man knows Kadath?
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Quoting from the <cite>Necronomicon</cite> in "The Dunwich Horror"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q132" date="1928">
    <p>
      As a foulness shall ye know Them. Their hand is at your throats,
yet ye see Them not; and Their habitation is even one with your
guarded threshold.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Quoting from the <cite>Necronomicon</cite> in "The Dunwich Horror"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q133" date="1928">
    <p>
      Man rules now where They ruled once; They shall soon rule where
man rules now. After summer is winter, and after winter summer. They
wait patient and potent, for here shall They reign again.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Quoting from the <cite>Necronomicon</cite> in "The Dunwich Horror"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q134" date="1930">
    <p>
      Even the sunlight assumed a supernal glamour, as if some special
atmosphere or exhalation mantled the whole region. I had seen nothing
like it before save in the magic vistas that sometimes form the
backgrounds of Italian primitives. Sodoma and Leonardo conceived such
expanses, but only in the distance, and through the vaultings of
Renaissance arcades.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Whisperer in Darkness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q135" date="1930">
    <p>
      Never was a sane man more dangerously close to the arcana of
basic entity -- never was an organic brain nearer to utter
annihilation in the chaos that transcends form and force and symmetry.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Whisperer in Darkness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q136" date="1930">
    <p>
      I learned whence Cthulhu <em>first</em> came, and why half the
great temporary stars of history had flared forth. I guessed -- from
hints which made even my informant pause timidly -- the secret behind
the Magellanic Clouds and globular nebulae, and the black truth veiled
by the immemorial allegory of Tao.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Whisperer in Darkness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q137" date="1930">
    <p>
      The sense of a throwback was all the stronger because I felt
instinctively that the common problem of the Spaniard and myself was
one of such abysmal timelessness -- of such unholy and unearthly
eternity -- that the scant four hundred years between us bulked as
nothing in comparison. It took no more than a single look at that
monstrous and insidious cylinder to make me realize the dizzying gulfs
that yawned between all men of the known earth and the primal
mysteries it represented. Before that gulf Pànfilo de Zamacona and I
stood side by side; just as Aristotle and I, or Cheops and I, might
have stood.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft and Zealia Bishop</author>
      <source>"The Mound"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q138" date="1930">
    <p>
      Never mix up with secret and ultimate horror, young man, if you
value your immortal soul.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft and Zealia Bishop</author>
      <source>"Medusa's Coil"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q139" date="1931">
    <p>
      Certainly, the terror of a deserted house swells in geometrical
rather than arithmetical progression as houses multiply to form a city
of stark desolation. The sight of such linked infinities of black,
brooding compartments given over to cobwebs and memories and the
conqueror worm, start up vestigial fears and aversions that not even
the stoutest philosophy can disperse.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Shadow Over Innsmouth"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q140" date="1931">
    <p>
      Doubt of the real facts, as I must reveal them, is inevitable;
yet if I suppressed what will seem extravagant and incredible there
would be nothing left.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q141" date="1931">
    <p>
      Every incident of that four-and-a-half hour flight is burned
into my recollection because of its crucial position in my life. It
marked my loss, at the age of fifty-four, of all that peace and
balance which the normal mind possesses through its accustomed
conception of external Nature and Nature's laws.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q142" date="1931">
    <p>
      I could not help feeling that they were evil things -- mountains
of madness whose farther slopes looked out over some accursed ultimate
abyss.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q143" date="1931">
    <p>
      We did not mention, I think, their display of the same
uneasiness when sniffing around the queer greenish soapstones and
certain other objects in the disordered region; objects including
scientific instruments, aeroplanes, and machinery both at the camp and
at the boring, whose parts had been loosened, moved, or otherwise
tampered with by winds that must have harboured singular curiosity and
investigativeness.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q144" date="1931">
    <p>
      There were geometrical forms for which an Euclid could scarcely
find a name -- cones of all degrees of irregularity and truncation;
terraces of every sort of provocative disproportion; shafts with odd
bulbous enlargements; broken columns in curious groups; and
five-pointed or five-ridged arrangements of mad grotesqueness.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q145" date="1931">
    <p>
      Imagination could conceive almost anything in connexion with
this place.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q146" date="1931">
    <p>
      These vertebrates, as well as an infinity of other life forms --
animal and vegetable, marine, terrestrial, and aërial -- were the
products of unguided evolution acting on life-cells made by the Old
Ones, but escaping beyond their radius of attention. They had been
suffered to develop unchecked because they had not come in conflict
with the dominant beings. Bothersome forms, of course, were
mechanically exterminated. It interested us to see in some of the very
last and most decadent sculptures a shambling, primitive mammal, used
sometimes for food and sometimes as an amusing buffoon by the land
dwellers, whose vaguely simian and human foreshadowings were
unmistakable.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q147" date="1931">
    <p>
      Perhaps we were mad -- for have I not said those horrible peaks
were mountains of madness? But I think I can detect something of the
same spirit -- albeit in a less extreme form -- in the men who stalk
deadly beasts through African jungles to photograph them or study
their habits. Half paralyzed with terror though we were, there was
nevertheless fanned within us a blazing flame of awe and curiosity
which triumphed in the end.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q148" date="1931">
    <p>
      Poor devils! After all, they were not evil things of their kind.
They were the men of another age and another order of being. Nature
had played a hellish jest on them -- as it will on any others that
human madness, callousness, or cruelty may hereafter dig up in that
hideously dead or sleeping polar waste - and this was their tragic
homecoming.
    </p>
    <p>
      They had not been even savages -- for what indeed had they done?
That awful awakening in the cold of an unknown epoch -- perhaps an
attack by the furry, frantically barking quadrupeds, and a dazed
defense against them and the equally frantic white simians with the
queer wrappings and paraphernalia ... poor Lake, poor Gedney... and
poor Old Ones! Scientists to the last -- what had they done that we
would not have done in their place? God, what intelligence and
persistence! What a facing of the incredible, just as those carven
kinsmen and forbears had faced things only a little less incredible!
Radiates, vegetables, monstrosities, star spawn -- whatever they had
been, they were men!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q149" date="1931">
    <p>
      The penguins alone could not have saved us, but in conjunction
with the mist they seem to have done so.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q150" date="1931">
    <p>
      "South Station Under -- Washington Under -- Park Street
Under-Kendall -- Central -- Harvard -- " The poor fellow was chanting
the familiar stations of the Boston-Cambridge tunnel that burrowed
through our peaceful native soil thousands of miles away in New
England, yet to me the ritual had neither irrelevance nor home
feeling. It had only horror, because I knew unerringly the monstrous,
nefandous analogy that had suggested it.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q151" date="1931">
    <p>
      It was the utter, objective embodiment of the fantastic
novelist's "thing that should not be"; and its nearest comprehensible
analogue is a vast, onrushing subway train as one sees it from a
station platform -- the great black front looming colossally out of
infinite subterraneous distance, constellated with strangely coloured
lights and filling the prodigious burrow as a piston fills a cylinder.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q152" date="1931">
    <p>
      The grey half-daylight of the vast circular space sobered us
somewhat; but we did not go near those cached sledges or look again at
poor Gedney and the dog. They have a strange and titanic mausoleum,
and I hope the end of this planet will find them still undisturbed.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"At the Mountains of Madness"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q153" date="1932">
    <p>
      Possibly Gilman ought not to have studied so hard. Non-Euclidean
calculus and quantum physics are enough to stretch any brain; and when
one mixes them with folklore, and tries to trace a strange background
of multi-dimensional reality behind the ghoulish hints of the Gothic
tales and the wild whispers of the chimney-corner, one can hardly
expect to be wholly free from mental tension.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Dreams in the Witch House"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q154" date="1933">
    <p>
      But he was still content, for at one mighty venture he was to
learn all. Damnation, he reflected, is but a word bandied about by
those whose blindness leads them to condemn all who can see, even with
a single eye.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft and E. Hoffman Price</author>
      <source>"Through the Gates of the Silver Key"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q155" date="1933">
    <p>
      He wondered at the vast conceit of those who had babbled of the
<em>malignant</em> Ancient Ones, as if They could pause from their
everlasting dreams to wreak a wrath on mankind. As well, he thought,
might a mammoth pause to visit frantic vengeance on an angleworm.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft and E. Hoffman Price</author>
      <source>"Through the Gates of the Silver Key"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q156" date="1933">
    <p>
      The Man of Truth has learned that Illusion is the One Reality,
and that Substance is the Great Imposter.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft and E. Hoffman Price</author>
      <source>"Through the Gates of the Silver Key"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q157" date="1935">
    <p>
      If the thing did happen, then man must be prepared to accept
notions of the cosmos, and of his own place in the seething vortex of
time, whose merest mention is paralysing. He must, too, be placed on
guard against a specific, lurking peril which, though it will never
engulf the whole race, may impose monstrous and unguessable horrors
upon certain venturesome members of it.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Shadow Out of Time"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q158" date="1935">
    <p>
      After man there would be the mighty beetle civilisation, the
bodies of whose members the cream of the Great Race would seize when
the monstrous doom overtook the elder world. Later, as the earth's
span closed, the transferred minds would again migrate through time
and space -- to another stopping place in the bodies of the bulbous
vegetable entities of Mercury. But there would be races after them,
clinging pathetically to the cold planet and burrowing to its
horror-filled core, before the utter end.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Shadow Out of Time"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q159" date="1935">
    <p>
      Madness, of course -- but had I not now stumbled into a nighted
world as mad as I?
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Shadow Out of Time"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q160" date="1935">
    <p>
      If the thing were there -- and if I were not dreaming -- the
implications would be quite beyond the power of the human spirit to
bear. What tormented me most was my momentary inability to feel that
my surroundings were a dream.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Shadow Out of Time"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q161" date="1935">
    <p>
      If that abyss and what it held were real, there is no hope.
Then, all too truly, there lies upon this world of man a mocking and
incredible shadow out of time.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Shadow Out of Time"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q162" date="1935">
    <p>
      I did not bring back the metal case that would have been a
proof, and so far those subterrene corridors have not been found.
    </p>
    <p>
      If the laws of the universe are kind, they will never be found.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Shadow Out of Time"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q163" date="1935">
    <p>
      Truly, there are terrible primal arcana of earth which had
better be left unknown and unevoked; dread secrets which have nothing
to do with man, and which man may learn only in exchange for peace and
sanity; cryptic truths which make the knower evermore an alien among
his kind, and cause him to walk alone on earth.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft and William Lumley</author>
      <source>"The Diary of Alonzo Typer"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q164" date="1935">
    <p>
      Likewise are there dread survivals of things older and more
potent than man; things that have blasphemously straggled down through
the aeons to ages never meant for them; monstrous entities that have
lain sleeping endlessly in incredible crypts and remote caverns,
outside the laws of reason and causation, and ready to be waked by
such blasphemers as shall know their dark forbidden signs and furtive
passwords.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft and William Lumley</author>
      <source>"The Diary of Alonzo Typer"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q165" date="1936">
    <p>
      As the end approaches I feel more kindly toward the things. In
the scale of cosmic entity who can say which species stands higher, or
more nearly approaches a space-wide organic norm -- theirs or mine?
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft and Kenneth Sterling</author>
      <source>"In the Walls of Eryx"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q166" date="1936">
    <p>
      Things seen by the inward sight, like those flashing visions
which comes as we drift into the blankness of sleep, are more vivid
and meaningful to us in that form than when we have sought to weld
them with reality.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q167" date="1936">
    <p>
      Set a pen to a dream, and the colour drains from it.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q168" date="1936">
    <p>
      In dreams and visions lie the greatest creations of man, for on
them rests no yoke of line or hue.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q169" date="1936">
    <p>
      There were painted women in tinsel adornments, and bored men who
were no longer young -- a throng of foolish marionettes perched on the
lip of the ocean-chasm; unseeing, unwilling to see what lay above them
and about, in the multitudinous grandeur of the stars and the leagues
of the night ocean.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q170" date="1936">
    <p>
      When I reached my high residence I knew that I had passed no one
during the mile's walk from the village, and yet there somehow
lingered an impression that I had been all the while accompanied by
the spirit of the lonely sea.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q171" date="1936">
    <p>
      It was astonishing the number of useless things people found to
do.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q172" date="1936">
    <p>
      The morning ocean, glimmering with a reflected mist of
blue-white cloud and expanding diamond foam, has the eyes of one who
ponders on strange things; and her intricately woven webs, through
which dart a myriad coloured fishes, hold the air of some great idle
thing which will arise presently from the hoary immemorial chasms and
stride upon the land.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q173" date="1936">
    <p>
      The sea can bind us to her many moods, whispering to us by the
subtle token of a shadow or a gleam upon the waves, and hinting in
these ways of her mournfulness or rejoicing. Always she is remembering
old things, and these memories, though we may not grasp them, are
imparted to us, so that we share her gaiety or remorse.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q174" date="1936">
    <p>
      The ocean ruled my life during the whole of that late summer;
demanding it as recompense for the healing she had brought me.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q175" date="1936">
    <p>
      There were drownings at the beach that year; and while I heard
of these only casually (such is our indifference to a death which does
not concern us, and to which we are not witness), I knew that their
details were unsavoury.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q176" date="1936">
    <p>
      Frequently, in a momentary perception, we feel that a feathery
landscape (for instance), a woman's dress along the curve of a road by
afternoon, or the solidity of a century-defying tree against the pale
morning sky (the conditions more than the object being significant)
hold something precious, some golden virtue that we must grasp.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q177" date="1936">
    <p>
      I felt, in brief agonies of disillusionment, the gigantic
blackness of this overwhelming universe, in which my days and the days
of my race were as nothing to the shattered stars; a universe in which
each action is vain and even the emotion of grief a wasted thing.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">R.H. Barlow and H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"The Night Ocean"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q178" date="1921">
    <p>
      It is easy to remove the mind from harping on the lost illusion
of immortality. The disciplined intellect fears nothing and craves no
sugar-plum at the day's end, but is content to accept life and serve
society as best it may. Personally I would not care for immortality in
the least. There is nothing better than oblivion, since in oblivion
there is no wish unfulfilled. We had it before we were born, yet did
not complain. Shall we whine because we know it will return? It is
Elysium enough for me, at any rate.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"In Defence of Dagon"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q179" date="1927">
    <p>
      The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the
oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Supernatural Horror in Literature"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q180" date="1927">
    <p>
      The appeal of the spectrally macabre is generally narrow because
it demands from the reader a certain degree of imagination and a
capacity for detachment from every-day life.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Supernatural Horror in Literature"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q181" date="1927">
    <p>
      Children will always be afraid of the dark, and men with minds
sensitive to hereditary impulse will always tremble at the thought of
the hidden and fathomless worlds of strange life which may pulsate in
the gulfs beyond the stars, or press hideously upon our own globe in
unholy dimensions which only the dead and the moonstruck can glimpse.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Supernatural Horror in Literature"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q182" date="1927">
    <p>
      Creative minds are uneven, and the best of fabrics have their
dull spots.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Supernatural Horror in Literature"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q183" date="1927">
    <p>
      The true weird tale has something more than secret murder,
bloody bones, or a sheeted form clanking chains according to rule. A
certain atmosphere of breathless and unexplainable dread of outer,
unknown forces must be present, and there must be a hint, expressed
with a seriousness and portentousness becoming its subject, of that
most terrible conception of the human brain -- a malign and particular
suspension or defeat of those fixed laws of Nature which are our only
safeguard against the assaults of chaos and the daemons of unplumbed
space.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Supernatural Horror in Literature"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q184" date="1927">
    <p>
      The one test of the really weird is simply this -- whether or
not there be excited in the reader a profound sense of dread, and of
contact with unknown spheres and powers; a subtle attitude of awed
listening, as if for the beating of black wings or the scratching of
outside shapes and entities on the known universe's utmost rim.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Supernatural Horror in Literature"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q185" date="1927">
    <p>
      Yet who shall declare the dark theme a positive handicap?
Radiant with beauty, the Cup of the Ptolemies was carven of onyx.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"Supernatural Horror in Literature"</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q186" date="1914-09-05">
    <p>
      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.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to the Providence Evening News, September 5 1914</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q187" date="1924">
    <p>
      Round pegs find round holes, square pegs find square holes. And
by the same token, albeit with rather greater difficulty, I am sure
that there must somewhere be a corresponding hole for such a peg as
proverbial metaphor may dub trapezohedral!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter applying for a job</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q188" date="1915-09-30">
    <p>
      As, gazing on each comic act / I stare at your perfection, / I
find it hard to face the fact / That you're a mere projection.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>"To Charlie of the Comics", in a letter to Reinhardt Kleiner, September 30 1915</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q189" date="1916">
    <p>
      Frankly, I cannot conceive how any thoughtful man can really be
happy. There is really nothing in the universe to live for, and unless
one can dismiss thought and speculation from his mind, he is liable to
be engulfed by the very immensity of creation. It is vastly better
that he should amuse himself with religion, or any other convenient
palliative to reality which comes to hand.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Kleiner, Cole, and Moe, October 1916</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q190" date="1918-02-03">
    <p>
      I am no great success in this world, and doubtless will not be
in the next, but when it comes to a catalogue of crimes and evils I
really cannot think of any worse offense than writing bad verse and
not rolling my "rrr...s".
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Maurice W. Moe, February 3 1918</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q191" date="1918-05-15">
    <p>
      Foolish, do I hear you say? Undoubtedly! I had better be a
consistent pragmatist: get drunk and confine myself to a happy,
swinish, contented little world -- the gutter -- till some policeman's
No. 13 boot intrudes upon my philosophic repose.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Maurice W. Moe, May 15 1918</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q192" date="1918-05-27">
    <p>
      As to "Sherlock Holmes" -- I used to be infatuated with him! I
read every Sherlock Holmes story published, and even organised a
detective agency when I was thirteen, arrogating to myself the proud
pseudonym of S.H. ...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Alfred Galpin, May 27 1918</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q193" date="1918-05-27">
    <p>
      About the word "peruse" -- possibly I do employ it to excess,
but Mr Addison was ever my model of style in prose.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Alfred Galpin, May 27 1918</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q194" date="1919-03-19">
    <p>
      My mother, showing no signs of recovery, has gone to a hospital,
where she is receiving the most expert care which medical science can
afford. I strongly hope the change will benefit her. It has a good
chance of doing so, since many features of diet &amp; regimen which
the physicians are prescribing, are directly opposite to those
prescribed by the previous practitioner.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Reinhardt Kleiner, March 19 1919</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q195" date="1919-09-27">
    <p>
      Of course, I am unfamiliar with amatory phenomena save through
cursory reading.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Reinhardt Kleiner, September 27 1919</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q196">
    <p>
      Then I perceived with horror that I was growing too old for
pleasure. Ruthless Time had set its fell claw upon me, and I was
seventeen. Big boys do not play in toy houses and mock gardens, so I
was obliged to turn over my world in sorrow to another and younger boy
who dwelt across the lot from me. And since that time I have not
delved in the earth or laid out paths and roads. There is too much
wistful memory in such procedure, for the fleeting joy of childhood
may never be recaptured. Adulthood is hell.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to the Gallomo (Galpin, Lovecraft, and Moe), 1920</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q197" date="1920-03-07">
    <p>
      I was 23 years of age, and realised that my infirmities would
withhold me from success in the world at large. Feeling like a cipher,
I felt that I might well be erased.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Reinhardt Kleiner, March 7 1920</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q198" date="1920-05-21">
    <p>
      I had a visitor the other night, who gave me an idea for a good
story. He was a furry, four-footed young visitor, with a black coat,
white gloves and boots, and white around the tip of his nose and the
tip of his tail. He sat in a chair near me, purring most inspiringly,
when I permitted my fancy to consider his ancient race and heritage.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Reinhardt Kleiner, May 21 1920</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q199">
    <p>
      They invited me to their meeting of March 10, which was supposed
to be in honour of the not unknown Santus Patricius -- the Scotsman
who drave from Hibernia all the snakes save the Sinn Fein.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Reinhardt Kleiner, April 23 1921</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q200">
    <p>
      I expect nothing of man, and disown the race. The only folly is
expecting what is never attained; man is most contemptible when
compared with his own pretensions. It is better to laugh at man from
outside the universe, than to weep for him within.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Reinhardt Kleiner, April 23 1921</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q201">
    <p>
      Anything savouring of quiet and tameness is maddeningly
abhorrent to me -- not in actual life, for that I wish as placid as
possible; but in thought, which is my more vivid life.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Reinhardt Kleiner, May 13 1921</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q202">
    <p>
      I shall never be very merry or very sad, for I am more prone to
analyse than to feel.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Reinhardt Kleiner, May 13 1921</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q203">
    <p>
      What merriment I have is always derived from the satirical
principle, and what sadness I have, is not so much personal, as a vast
and terrible melancholy at the pain and futility of all existence in a
blind and purposeless cosmos.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Reinhardt Kleiner, May 13 1921</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q204">
    <p>
      When Kleiner showed me the sky-line of New York I told him that
man is like the coral insect -- designed to build vast, beautiful,
mineral things for the moon to delight in after he is dead.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, May 3 1922</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q205">
    <p>
      David V. Bush is a short, plump fellow of about forty-five, with
a bland face, bald head, and very fair taste in attire. He is actually
an immensely good sort -- kindly, affable, winning, and smiling.
Probably he has to be in order to induce people to let him live after
they have read his verse.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Anne Tillery Renshaw, June 14 1922</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q206">
    <p>
      With becoming modesty he announces his intention of
revolutionising the country with his new gospel of dynamic psychology;
which has all the virtues of "New Thought" plus a saving vagueness
which prevents its absurdity from being exposed before the credulous
public amongst whom his missionary labours lie.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Anne Tillery Renshaw, June 14 1922</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q207">
    <p>
      He enjoys life -- as do all who are spared the curse of
intelligence.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Anne Tillery Renshaw, June 14 1922</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q208">
    <p>
      I'm now too thoroughly cynical to expect much of amateurdom, or
to give many damns about it; save as a perpetually chaotic mess from
which a few odd souls can get some impetus toward literary development
... or at least toward a fairly comfortable literary disillusion.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, April 22 1923</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q209">
    <p>
      Physical life and experience, with the narrowings of artistic
vision they create in the majority, are the objects of my most profoud
contempt. It is for this reason that I despise Bohemians, who think it
essential to art to lead wild lives. My loathing is not from the
standpoint of Puritan morality, but from that of aesthetic
independence -- I revolt at the notion that physical life is of any
value or significance. To me the ideal artist is a gentleman who shows
his contempt for life by continuing in the quiet ways of his
ancestors, leaving his fancy free to explore refulgent and amazing
spheres.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, May 13 1923</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q210">
    <p>
      Ideas are very foolish -- they mean nothing and lead nowhere.
Rest, beauty, tranquility -- these only have value.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, May 26 1923</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q211">
    <p>
      I have no opinions -- I believe in nothing -- but assume for the
time whatever opinion amuses me or is opposite to that of the person
or persons present.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, May 26 1923</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q212">
    <p>
      Evening had come, and through silent, unillumined Colonial
streets I made my way to the station, glancing now and then at the
arabesques of the tenebrous steeples and Gothic vanes and singular
chimney-pots as they stood limned before the inscrutable and
immemorial stars; the pale, langurous stars that saw Portsmouth born,
and that without a smile will see Portsmouth die.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Maurice W. Moe, September 4 1923</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q213">
    <p>
      I am lately inform'd that, all these weeks later, young Donald's
first remark on being introduc'd to Niagara Falls, was the
exclamation: "Gee, what wou'd Mr. Lovecraft say!" -- a thing which may
be taken as evidence, that the youth is not unimprest with volubility
and flow, whether in aqueous torrents or in childish old gentlemen.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, September 4 1923</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q214">
    <p>
      I hated monstrously to see him go, for he is a person of the
most companionable amiability, even if he does write down all his
expenditures in a little green note book for his wife to see.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, September 4 1923</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q215">
    <p>
      As to these limited editions and so forth -- I don't care for
'em at all. All I want of a book is to have it in good clear type for
my old eyes, clean, and free from misprints. What edition it is, or
who owned it in the past, isn't any concern of mine; although I do
like it to be in the "long S" if possible.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, October 7 1923</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q216">
    <p>
      Nothing matters, but it's perhaps more comfortable to keep calm
and not interfere with other people.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, October 7 1923</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q217">
    <p>
      I was only fifteen minutes late -- a degree of promptness which
will through all my after life give me the sensation of being as
punctual as a tradesman.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Samuel Loveman, January 5 1924</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q218">
    <p>
      We ascended to the organ loft, and I endeavor'd to play
<cite>Yes, We Have no Bananas</cite>, but was balk'd by lack of power,
since the machine is not a self-starter.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Samuel Loveman, January 5 1924</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q219">
    <p>
      I have always thought there is a peculiar fascination about
provincial towns, where time treads lightly and leaves curious byways,
customs, and heritages; all the more fascinating if the town be large
enough to contain bewildering and labyrinthine recesses, and little
worlds unknown each to the other.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, January 8 1924</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q220">
    <p>
      Habitations of men should never be <em>made</em> -- they should
be sown, water'd, weeded, tended, and allowed to <em>grow</em> by
subtle processes. What makes a town really lovely and fascinating, is
the quaint irregularity which links it to its geographical location --
the suggestions of hill and dale, river and shore -- and to the
continuous history of its inhabitants -- the marks of original
settlement, slow expansion, and development in channels and directions
determin'd by the topography of the site and aspirations and genius of
the people. These things are all that make a city vivid and dramatick
and human -- all that give it the captivating individuality which
differentiates it from any other city.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, January 26 1924</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q221">
    <p>
      Happy indeed is that town which grew slowly enough to leave
traces of the gradual evolution from year to year, and gently enough
to preserve the original topographical lines of hill and shore -- the
lines that are graceful because born of Nature, and that find
embodiment in curved streets, quaint slopes or flights of steps,
simple and dignify'd bridges, sea-walls, and embankments, quiet nooks
and terraces, and all other vestiges which show man's conformity to
Nature rather than man's artificial conquest of Nature by prosaic,
repudiatory feats of engineering.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, January 26 1924</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q222">
    <p>
      If these ancient spots were fascinating in the busy hours of
twilight, fancy their utter and poignant charm in the sinister hours
before dawn, when only cats, criminals, astronomers, and poetic
antiquarians roam the waking world!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Mrs F.C. Clark, September 29-30 1924</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q223">
    <p>
      The town, brooding quietly in the Sabbath radiance despite the
herds of sightseers unloos'd upon it, does not at first impress one.
The Monument is so distant, the sky so vacant of tall buildings, and
the ground so devoted to parks, malls, and wide spaces, that one
cannot gather the sense of compact and active life which one usually
associates with large cities.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Describing Washington DC, in a letter to Mrs F.C. Clark, April 21 1925</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q224">
    <p>
      During this hospital period I had my first experience in lone
housekeeping. Aided by the written instructions of my wife I made
coffee that I could actually drink, and cooked spaghetti that I could
actually eat -- and as a matter of personal pride I kept the house
swept and dusted.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Maurice W. Moe, June 15 1925</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q225">
    <p>
      Reaching the farmhouse by motor from the station, we found it
quite tolerable though somewhat lonely; and to my mind vastly enhanced
by the lively presence of a large family of irresistible gray kittens.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Maurice W. Moe, June 15 1925</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q226">
    <p>
      I like a tale to be told as directly and impersonally as
possible, from an angle of utter and absolute detachment.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, August 2 1925</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q227">
    <p>
      It so happens that I am unable to take pleasure or interest in
anything but a mental re-creation of other &amp; better days ... so in
order to avoid the madness which leads to violence &amp; suicide I
must cling to the few shreds of old days &amp; old ways which are left
to me.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to an unknown correspondent, August 8 1925</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q228">
    <p>
      Yes -- such sensitivenesses of temperament are very inconvenient
when one has no money -- but it's easier to criticise than to cure
them.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to an unknown correspondent, August 8 1925</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q229">
    <p>
      As I have always said, missionaries are infernal nuisances who
ought to be kept at home -- dull, solemn asses without scientific
acumen or historical perspective ...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Mrs F.C. Clark, September 12-13 1925</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q230">
    <p>
      When my stuff is done it always disappoints me -- never quite
presenting the fulness of the picture I have in mind -- but since a
crude fixation of the image is better than nothing, I plug along &amp;
do the feeble best I can.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Clark Ashton Smith, September 20 1925</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q231">
    <p>
      Peste! Sacrebleu! Nom d'un Cochon vert! O Saint Dieu et Notre
Dame de Montreal! THIS GAWD-DAMN COLD!!!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, November 1925</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q232">
    <p>
      Ineffective &amp; injudicious I may be, but I trust I may never
be inartistic or ill-bred in my course of conduct.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to an unknown correspondent, December 22-23 1925</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q233">
    <p>
      Possess, O Flambeau of Patersonic Tenebrosity, a cardiac organ;
and heap upon my valueless cranium the carbonaceous symbols of Eblis'
aeternal conflagrations!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, January 5 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q234">
    <p>
      Nothing really matters, and the only thing for a person to do is
to take the artificial and traditional values he finds around him and
pretend they are real; in order to retain that illusion of
significance in life which gives to human events their apparent
motivation and semblance of interest.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Walter J. Coates, March 30 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q235">
    <p>
      Yrs. for ghouls, afreets, and undertakers--
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Sign-off from a letter to Wilfred Blanch Talman, April 23 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q236">
    <p>
      As to Long's notion that your work systematically contains
phallic symbolism -- he picked that up at second-hand from Loveman,
who seems to have done enough delving in that line to see phalli in
most things from church steeples to mushrooms.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Clark Ashton Smith, May 14 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q237">
    <p>
      It's a pretty old world, after all, &amp; we shall never learn
much about the inner nature of things...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Clark Ashton Smith, May 14 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q238">
    <p>
      You poets can't age -- split me, Sir, if Samuelus isn't a
flaming youth still from all his barren pole and uncertain equator!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, June 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q239">
    <p>
      As to what is meant by "weird" -- and of course weirdness is by
no means confined to horror -- I should say that the real criterion is
<em>a strong impression of the suspension of natural laws or the
presence of unseen worlds or forces close at hand</em>.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Wilfred Blanch Talman, August 24 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q240">
    <p>
      Besides the aesthetic, you have managed to work in the practical
-- which is always a sealed mystery to me.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Wilfred Blanch Talman, September 8 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q241">
    <p>
      I imagine that Wandrei must be rather a young chap -- though
possessed of a fund of imagery &amp; command of language which will
serve him well when he has learnt the lessons of restraint &amp;
austerity of form form which come with later life.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Clark Ashton Smith, October 12 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q242">
    <p>
      I can't get interested in it -- it doesn't even bore me enough
to take my mind off other boredoms.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, October 26 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q243">
    <p>
      This primary attention to plot is probably a wise choice on your
part, because to the weird writer plot is so much more difficult to
achieve than atmosphere.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Wilfred Blanch Talman, October 31 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q244">
    <p>
      But in the end, atmosphere repays cultivation; because it is the
final criterion of convincingness or unconvincingness in any tale
whose major appeal is to the imagination.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Wilfred Blanch Talman, October 31 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q245">
    <p>
      And to think I read them ----- ----- proofs <em>five</em> -----
----- times!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, November 17 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q246">
    <p>
      As to eyeshades and reversed caps -- you can't convince me that
either or both is or are (a) worth getting indignant or critical
about, or (b) any more foolish than dozens of other accepted customs.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, November 17 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q247">
    <p>
      Everything in the world outside primitive needs is the chance
result of inessential causes and random associations, and there's no
real or solid criterion by which one can condemn any particular
manifestation of human restlessness.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, November 17 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q248">
    <p>
      In the more southerly portions the very earth sparkles with some
shining powder that the fanciful would call star dust -- but which I,
as a veteran mineralogist, know must come from the oxydising up of the
neighbouring rocks -- which have mica or something. Being exceedingly
charitable where expense is not involved, I herewith enclose a very
modest specimen as a nucleus of the Theobald Collection of American
Rocks, for which I shall expect a special wing to be built at the
museum.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, November 26 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q249">
    <p>
      All we may say is, that the more purely an aesthete a man is,
the more likely he is to prefer cats; since the superior grace,
beauty, manners and neatness of the cat cannot but conquer the fancy
of any impartial observer emancipated from mundane and ethical
illusions.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, December 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q250">
    <p>
      We love kitties, gawd bless their little whiskers, and we don't
give a damn whether they or we are superior or inferior! They're
confounded pretty, and that's all we know and all we need to know!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, December 1926</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q251">
    <p>
      You can get a fairly good bird's-eye view of literary modernism
by reading Ben Hecht's <cite>Erik Dorn</cite> for prose, and T.S.
Eliot's <cite>The Waste Land</cite> for what purports to be verse.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to August Derleth, January 2 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q252">
    <p>
      About Oscar Wilde -- it seems to me that he forms a prominent
point in the history of literature without having been supremely great
himself.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to August Derleth, January 20 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q253">
    <p>
      No -- New York is dead, &amp; the brilliancy which so impresses
one from outside is the phosphoresence of a maggoty corpse.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Donald Wandrei, February 10 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q254">
    <p>
      Sterling was a real poet, &amp; the fact of his not fitting the
age is purely the age's fault.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Clark Ashton Smith, February 18 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q255">
    <p>
      By this time I see pretty well what I'm driving at and how I'm
doing it -- that I'm a rather one-sided person whose only really
burning interests are <em>the past</em> and <em>the unknown</em> or
<em>the strange</em>, and whose aestheticism in general is more
negative than positive -- i.e., a hatred of ugliness rather than an
active love of beauty.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Bernard Austin Dwyer, March 3 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q256">
    <p>
      I abhor broad prosaic highways with their implications of
change, modernity, and decadence, and make for the calm, untainted
inner countryside whenever I possibly can.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Bernard Austin Dwyer, March 3 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q257">
    <p>
      I conceived the idea that the great brownstone house was a
malignly sentient thing -- a dead, vampire creature which sucked
something out of those within it and implanted in them the seeds of
some horrible and immaterial psychic growth.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Bernard Austin Dwyer, March 26 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q258">
    <p>
      It is the frank &amp; cynical recognition of the inevitable
limitations of people in general which makes me absolutely indifferent
instead of actively hostile toward mankind.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Donald Wandrei, March 27 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q259">
    <p>
      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.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, April 1 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q260">
    <p>
      The vistas I relish most are those in which the sunset plays a
transfiguring &amp; glorifying part.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Donald Wandrei, April 21 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q261">
    <p>
      Living things -- usually insane or idiotic members of the family
-- concealed in the garrets or secret rooms of old houses are or at
least have been literal realities in rural New England -- I was told
by someone of how he stopped at a lone farmhouse on some errand years
ago, and was nearly frightened out of his wits by the opening of a
sliding panel in the kitchen wall, and the appearance of the most
horrible, dirt-caked, and matted-bearded face he had ever conceived
possible to exist!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Bernard Austin Dwyer, June 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q262">
    <p>
      Mere grotesqueness is very common; sly, malign madness sometimes
lurks around the corner; and berserk, revolting murder under
peculiarly messy and clumsy conditions is a matter of not infrequent
record.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Bernard Austin Dwyer, June 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q263">
    <p>
      All the common, unadorned things have been thought and said and
repeated a thousand times before. The dull, prosaic world of usual
feelings and events is so well "written up" that nothing vital remains
to be added.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Zealia Brown Reed, June 5 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q264">
    <p>
      And one may add, that the birth of a dear little chee-ild would
<em>not</em> solve all problems in glib nickleodeon fashion! Rather,
it would be a complication provocative of even more misery.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Zealia Brown Reed, June 12 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q265">
    <p>
      Chambers is like Rupert Hughes &amp; a few other fallen Titans
-- equipped with the right brains &amp; education, but wholly out of
the habit of using them.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Clark Ashton Smith, June 24 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q266">
    <p>
      Now all my tales are based on the fundamental premise that
common human laws and interests and emotions have no validity or
significance in the vast cosmos-at-large.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Fransworth Wright, July 5 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q267">
    <p>
      Wandrei can tell you all there is to be told about the art of
hitch-hiking, whereby the expense of railway fare becomes as obsolete
&amp; quaint a memory as the era of good taste in literature!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Clark Ashton Smith, July 15 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q268">
    <p>
      There are <em>twenty-eight</em> varieties this season, and we
<em>sampled them all</em> within the course of an hour.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>About ice cream, in a letter to Maurice W. Moe, July 30 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q269">
    <p>
      And now, at thirty-seven, I am gradually headed for pure
antiquarianism and architecture, and away from literature altogether!
Heaven knows where I'll end up -- but it's a safe bet that I'll never
be at the top of anything! Nor do I particularly care to be.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Zealia Brown Reed, August 28 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q270">
    <p>
      Well, the orgy is over at last, and the Old Gentlemen is weakly
gasping amidst the prodigious welter of work which piled up during his
absence. Shall I ever see daylight again? Only Mana-Yood-Sushai can
tell! I burrow -- I wallow -- and still there press spectrally upon me
the sinister shadows of imperative agenda. Where did I mislay that
cyanide? No matter, a revolver will do. But first I must get those
Bullen proofs out of the way!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, September 6 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q271">
    <p>
      Of course, so far as personal taste goes, I'm no lover of
humanity. To me cats are in every way more graceful and worthy of
respect -- but I don't try to raise my personal bias to the spurious
dignity of a dogmatic generality...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, September 6 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q272">
    <p>
      That is the perennial grief of an architectural antiquarian --
in a city as large as Providence or Boston something quaint is always
being demolished in the interest of alleged progress...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Zealia Brown Reed, September 22 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q273">
    <p>
      As for your new novelette -- look here, young man, you'd better
be mighty careful how you treat your aged and dignified Grandpa as
here! You mustn't make me doing anything cheerful or wholesome, and
remember that only the direst of damnations can befit so inveterate a
daemon of the cosmick abysses.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, September 24 1727</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q274">
    <p>
      I haven't very much energy or perseverance -- the uselessness of
everything, including even aesthetic effort, overshadows my
consciousness &amp; coöperates with my native indolence in defeating
all progressive or constructive developments.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Clark Ashton Smith, October 1 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q275">
    <p>
      As to futility &amp; work -- I have come to the comfortably
elderly condition of not caring a rap whether I do anything or not!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Clark Ashton Smith, October 15 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q276">
    <p>
      I didn't want the mediaeval stuff, but the book was too good to
tear in half.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>On the purchase of Goodyear's <cite>Roman and Mediaeval Art</cite>, in a letter to Frank Belknap Long, November 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q277">
    <p>
      Sir, I refuse to fall into your adroit trap! I simply say --
with a delicate wave of a perfectly manicured and correctly gloved
hand -- that you are wrong and I am right. Why? Because I say so! And
that is all a gentleman can add to the matter!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, November 13 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q278">
    <p>
      In a way, crosswords do harm by cluttering up the mind with an
aimless heap of unusual words selected purely for mechanical
exigencies and having no well-proportioned relation to the needs of
graceful discourse.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to James F. Morton, November 17 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q279">
    <p>
      After walking for some distance, I encounter'd the rusty tracks
of a street-railway, &amp; the worm-eaten poles which still held the
limp &amp; sagging trolley wire. Following this line, I soon came upon
a yellow, vestibuled car numbered 1852 -- of a plain, double-trucked
type common from 1900 to 1910. It was untenanted, but evidently ready
to start; the trolley being on the wire &amp; the air-brake pump now
&amp; then throbbing beneath the floor. I boarded it &amp; looked
vainly about for the light switch -- noting as I did so the absence of
controller handle which implied the brief absence of the motorman.
Then I sat down in one of the cross seats toward the middle, awaiting
the arrival of the crew &amp; the starting of the vehicle. Presently I
heard a swishing in the sparse grass toward the left, &amp; saw the
dark forms of two men looming up in the moonlight. They had the
regulation caps of a railway company, &amp; I could not doubt but that
they were the conductor &amp; motorman. Then one of them
<em>sniffed</em> with singular sharpness, &amp; raised his face to
howl to the moon. The other dropped on all fours to run toward the
car. I leaped up at once &amp; raced madly out of that car &amp; away
across endless leagues of plateau till exhaustion waked me -- doing
this not because the conductor had dropped on all fours, but because
the face of the motorman was a mere white cone tapeding to one
blood-red tentacle. ...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Donald Wandrei, November 24 1927, recounting a dream of the night before</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q280">
    <p>
      In furnishing my Irish colleague with an account of my vivid and
active career I did not think it necessary to mention trifles so tame
as Satanism and neogonophagy -- nay, nor my voyage up the Oxus, nor my
visit to Samarcand, nor how <em>and why</em> I slew the yellow-veiled
priest at Lhasa -- that priest whose yellow silken veil stood out
<em>too far</em> in front of where his face ought to be, and moved in
a manner that <em>I did not like</em>.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, December 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q281">
    <p>
      The Magnum Innominandum does not forget.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, December 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q282">
    <p>
      As for affectation -- I'm not fond of any kind, but hate
literary affectation the worst, because it is more permanent and
subversive in its essence. We can get rid of our personal affectations
when we begin to see their absurdity, but our literary affectations
are embalmed in cold print, and have perhaps ruined or at least
vitiated what might have been our best work.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to August Derleth, early December 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q283">
    <p>
      This especial old bird, according to an anecdote recorded by
George Sterling, parted from Bierce under the dramatic circumstances
of having a can broken over his head! When I saw his fiction I
wondered why Ambrosius didn't use a crowbar.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Describing Adolphus de Castro in a letter to Farnsworth Wright, December 22 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q284">
    <p>
      I fear my enthusiasm flags when real work is demanded of me.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Wilfred Blanch Talman, December 28 1927</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q285">
    <p>
      Yes -- nocturnal <em>howling</em> has an element of fearfulness
for me. I always associate it with lean, dog-faced beings that walk
sometimes on two legs and sometimes on four, and that lope abroad in
the night's small hours.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Bernard Austin Dwyer, January 1928</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q286">
    <p>
      As for the matter of drinking -- I have never tasted
intoxicating liquor, and never intend to; having a strong aesthetic
disgust at anything which blunts or coarsens the delicate natural
equipoise of the evolved human intellect and imagination.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Zealia Brown Reed, February 13 1928</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q287">
    <p>
      I think drink is ugly, and therefore I have nothing to do with
it.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Zealia Brown Reed, February 13 1928</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q288">
    <p>
      Have you read <cite>The Castle of Otranto</cite> itself? If not,
<em>don't</em>! Let the summary in Railo continue to give you a
"kick", for the original certainly won't!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Bernard Austin Dwyer, February 14 1928</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q289">
    <p>
      Coleridge represented a fine balance betwixt mind and fancy, and
I like him all the better for not having an excess of sloppy emotion.
The fact that his experience came through books rather than life does
not militate against him, because he had the rare faculty of accepting
the contents of books in an abstract way, as if the material came
directly from life with literary filtration. Bookishness becomes tepid
and artificial only when one looks <em>at</em> the books instead of
<em>through</em> them. So long as they are utilized only as
telescopes, and not worshipped for their mechanical selves, they form
very acceptable substitutes for vital experience.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, April 1928</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q290">
    <p>
      Ingenuous Age once more essays to find / A proper Gift for
Youth's sophistick Mind, / Well tho' he know how bootless 'tis to send
/ Aught that his own old Head can comprehend.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Accompanying a volume of Proust sent as a gift to Frank Belknap Long for Christmas 1928</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q291">
    <p>
      Of Wit and Beauty keeps discreetly chary, / And forfeits Sense
to be contemporary.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Accompanying a volume of Proust sent as a gift to Frank Belknap Long for Christmas 1928</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q292">
    <p>
      Devoid of Pomp as <em>Woolworth's</em> or <em>McCrory's</em>, /
And cerebral as <em>Vogue</em> or <em>Snappy-Stories</em>.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>Accompanying a volume of Proust sent as a gift to Frank Belknap Long for Christmas 1928</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q293">
    <p>
      What a man <em>does for pay</em> is of little significance. What
he <em>is</em>, as a sensitive instrument responsive to the world's
beauty, is everything!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Maurice W. Moe, January 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q294">
    <p>
      I never ask a man what his business is, for it never interests
me. What I ask him about are his thoughts and dreams.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Maurice W. Moe, January 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q295">
    <p>
      Here are we -- and yonder yawns the universe.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, February 20 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q296">
    <p>
      Speaking of boredom -- why don't you try to accumulate a library
which will furnish you with a solid reserve of intellectual and
aesthetic pabulum? The expense -- unless you are particular about the
appearance of the books -- is truly next to nothing; for one can
obtain astonishing bargains on the 10-cent and 25-cent counters of
second-hand book shops.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Mr. Harris, February 25 to March 1 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q297">
    <p>
      I couldn't live a week without a private library -- indeed, I'd
part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor before I'd
let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Mr. Harris, February 25 to March 1 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q298">
    <p>
      But the important thing to consider is the prodigious vitality
of the Roman idea. Rome was so mighty that it <em>could not fall</em>.
It had to vanish in a cloud, like so many of the mythical heros of
antiquity, and to receive its apotheosis among the stars before men
became fully aware that it had vanished from the earth!
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Mr. Harris, February 25 to March 1 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q299">
    <p>
      I am disillusioned enough to know that no man's opinion on any
subject is worth a damn unless backed up with enough genuine
information to make him really know what he's talking about.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Mr. Harris, February 25 to March 1 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q300">
    <p>
      I can dream a whole cycle of colonial life from merely gazing on
a tattered old book or almanack with the long 'f'.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Mr. Harris, February 25 to March 1 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q301">
    <p>
      It is a treadmill, squirrel-trap culture -- drugged and frenzied
with the hasheesh of industrial servitude and material luxury. It is
wholly a material body-culture, and its symbol is the tiled bathroom
and steam radiator rather than the Doric portico and the temple of
philosophy.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Mr. Harris, February 25 to March 1 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q302">
    <p>
      All of my 38 1/2 years show in me, I guess; and so far as my
temperament is concerned, I was born an old man.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Mr. Harris, February 25 to March 1 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q303">
    <p>
      However -- I am not quite such a solemn prig as you probably
assume from my letters.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Mr. Harris, February 25 to March 1 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q304">
    <p>
      My fiction can't be compared with Poe's or Machen's, but I take
no less pleasure in writing it on that account.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Elizabeth Toldridge, March 8 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q305">
    <p>
      The masters of art are not to 'bow down before', but to enjoy
rationally &amp; with a proper appreciation.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Elizabeth Toldridge, March 8 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q306">
    <p>
      Language, vocabulary, ideas, imagery -- everything succumbed to
my one intense purpose of thinking &amp; dreaming myself back into
that world of periwigs &amp; long s's which for some odd reason seemed
to me the normal world.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Elizabeth Toldridge, March 8 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q307">
    <p>
      Even when I break away, it is generally only through imitating
something else! There are my "Poe" pieces &amp; my "Dunsany" pieces --
but alas -- where are my <em>Lovecraft</em> pieces?
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Elizabeth Toldridge, March 8 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q308">
    <p>
      One thing I'll say for labour; &amp; that is, that it isn't as
offensive as the corresponding mutatory force which now threatens
culture in America. I refer to the force of <em>business</em> as a
dominating motive in life, &amp; a persistent absorber of the
strongest creative energies of the American people.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Elizabeth Toldridge, June 10 1929</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q309">
    <p>
      Bunch together a group of people deliberately chosen for strong
religious feelings, and you have a practical guarantee of dark
morbidities expressed in crime, perversion, and insanity.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Robert E. Howard, October 4 1930</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q310" date="1930-11-03">
    <p>
      ... an isolated person requires correspondence as a means of
seeing his ideas as others see them, and thus guarding against the
dogmatisms and extravagances of solitary and uncorrected speculation.
No man can learn to reason and appraise from a mere perusal of the
writing of others. If he live not in the world, where he can observe
the publick at first hand and be directed toward solid reality by the
force of conversation and spoken debate, then he must sharpen his
discrimination and regulate his perceptive balance by an equivalent
exchange of ideas in epistolary form.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, 3 Nov 1930</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q311" date="1931-02-27">
    <p>
      The process of delving into the black abyss is to me the keenest
form of fascination...
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Frank Belknap Long, February 27 1931</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q312" date="1931-08-03">
    <p>
      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. With such an honest and
inflexible openness to evidence, they could not fail to receive any
real truth which might be manifesting itself around them. The fact
that religionists do not follow this honourable course, but cheat at
their game by invoking juvenile quasi-hypnosis, is enough to destroy
their pretensions in my eyes even if their absurdity were not manifest
in every other direction.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Maurice W. Moe, August 3 1931</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q313" date="1932-09-22">
    <p>
      Despite my tremendous admiration for things like Dunsany's Gods
of the Mountain and O'Neill's Emperor Jones, I have never as yet
employed drama as a medium of expression. Probably the reason is that
in the sort of work I am trying to do human characters matter very
little.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
      <source>In a letter to Harold S. Farnese, September 22 1932</source>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q314">
    <p>
      To the scientist there is the joy in pursuing truth which nearly
counteracts the depressing revelations of truth.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q315">
    <p>
      At night, when the objective world has slunk back into its
cavern and left dreamers to their own, there come inspirations and
capabilities impossible at any less magical and quiet hour. No one
knows whether or not he is a writer unless he has tried writing at
night.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
  </quotation>
  <quotation id="q316">
    <p>
      The world is indeed comic, but the joke is on mankind.
    </p>
      <author rdf:resource="http://dbpedia.org/resource/H._P._Lovecraft">H.P. Lovecraft</author>
  </quotation>
</quotations>