It Is Only The Inferior

Blue, Green, Grey, White, Or Black; Smooth, Ruffled, Or Mountainous; That Ocean Is Not Silent.

There Are Black Zones Of Shadow Close To Our Daily Paths, And Now And Then Some Evil Soul Breaks A Passage Through. When That Happens, The Man Who Knows Must Strike Before Reckoning The Consequences.

With Hidden Powers Of Unknown Extent Apparently At His Disposal, Curwen Was Not A Man Who Could Safely Be Warned To Leave Town.

More Wonderful Than The Lore Of Old Men And The Lore Of Books Is The Secret Lore Of The Ocean. Blue, Green, Grey, White, Or Black; Smooth, Ruffled, Or Mountainous; That Ocean Is Not Silent. All My Days I Have Watched It And Listened To It, And I Know It Well. At First It Told To Me Only The Plain Little Tales Of Calm Beaches And Near Ports, But With The Years It Grew More Friendly And Spoke Of Other Things; Of Things More Strange And More Distant In Space And Time.

No Amount Of Rationalisation, Reform, Or Freudian Analysis Can Quite Annul The Thrill Of The Chimney-corner Whisper Or The Lonely Wood.