It Must Be Remembered That

I Could Not Help Feeling That They Were Evil Things -- Mountains Of Madness Whose Farther Slopes Looked Out Over Some Accursed Ultimate Abyss.

The Cat Is Cryptic, And Close To Strange Things Which Men Cannot See.

I Should Describe Mine Own Nature As Tripartite, My Interests Consisting Of Three Parallel And Dissociated Groups - (a) Love Of The Strange And Fantastic. (b) Love Of The Abstract Truth And Of Scientific Logick. (c) Love Of The Ancient And The Permanent. Sundry Combinations Of These Three Strains Will Probably Account For All My Odd Tastes And Eccentricities.

The Only Saving Grace Of The Present Is That It's Too Damned Stupid To Question The Past Very Closely.

The Old Ones Were, The Old Ones Are, And The Old Ones Shall Be. Not In The Spaces We Know, But Between Them. They Walk Serene And Primal, Undimensioned And To Us Unseen.