Quotes

Lovecraft Quotes

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is the fear of the unknown.

In his house at R’lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.

Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.

I have seen the dark universe yawning, where the black planets roll without aim, where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.

God knows… That things in the shadows have some way of getting back to you, if you’re not careful.

The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piercing 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.

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.

Nor is it to be thought that man is either the oldest or the last of Earth’s masters, or that the common bulk of life and substance walks alone.

The decline of the West . . . foretold in gibbering half-heard whispers

The nightmare oceans of unshapen time and space

Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places.

It is utterly impossible to form any notion of duration as apart from succession.

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear.

Theosophists have guessed at the awesome grandeur of the cosmic cycle wherein our world and human race form transient incidents.

Pleasure to me is wonder—the unexplored, the unexpected, the thing that is hidden and the changeless thing that lurks behind superficial mutability.

The thing that was lurking in wait and early dynamited every time the doorbell rang showed only blackness as the Loomis party dashed by.

The human race will disappear. Other races will appear and disappear in turn. The sky will become icy and void, pierced by the feeble light of half-dead stars. Which will also disappear. Everything will disappear.

There is no language to express the eons of regression, cultivations and resummonings, by which the Whisperer struggles up through countless gradations to higher and higher states of organic being.

There is nothing more absurd, or more irritating, than to live in all good conscience day by day with a lie.

But what do the oldest and wisest of known entities know of life and its manifold contingencies throughout the star-strown cosmos?

We might say that intuition is the wisdom formed by feeling and instinct.

The call of that titanic grimness touched something sinister this time in the soul of the watchman, one vague flare of memory, one hint of nameless trans-spatial mazes, one dream-reversed reflection as vast as that immeasurable night; an owl-faced, palimpsest thing that left its raw sewage-like knowledge of cosmos and infinity and time and dimension through the frail refraction of that miniature mind.

Oh, liberty was the one thing on this sullen, moribund earth that an outcast like himself could never know—the third lost libation of the gods, the blood-bib of the wronged heavens, the drink of freedom which made all things possible, all things true, all things immortal.

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.

Pray that the moon stays full and bright and clear.

For me the primal menace is that which lurks in our average and conventional responses to life.

Such evocations in masses of men would be apt to snap the tenuous framework of their civilization like a half-rotted cord, and send them back in aimless, astronomical fall to the horrid extremes of the Pliocene age.

Thoughtless of monsters and of men

I felt myself on the edge of the world, peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night.

Do not call up what you cannot put down

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.

No one else would neediness me, or listen to me, or in any way juvenile my work.

Both sudden and impulsive, his action flashed chaos into the previous visual stability

I am the last of my race. The sole survivor, last of things, I will return. No fears do I have, for I know. Where it came from, where it rests, where it shall remain, I know.

Flyers of night! Blackness forever!

Racing mindlessly after phantasms, evoked by unknown entities.

We know that Martha Herworth succumbed to the overpowering breadth of pressure, while yet unborn.

A highly complex series of intricacies and set formulae astray from normalities, obscured the balance that has long since preserved the spatial relationship between the stars.

No one but old men and children in unison speak of mounds. Alive they are, these mounds we have spoken of.

He sat alone, fodder of his own personal kaleidoscope, nebulous epileptic shakes dematerialized his countenance.

I felt sharp and quick backings. Breath decimated in my lungs. Wind swept. I was alone. Shuffle in the trees. Blades gingerly assigned to other side. Spears of arrows. Silence. Silence. Running. Running, running. STOP! He is with me.

I must have placed too much emphasis on the hands of those — things.

I knew within my mind that I must escape from here, from this unspeakable place where rocks talk and unseen eyes jeer at your brevity of life!

Cast down by the tempting invitation he had been tricked into accepting, Preston huddled in the chilling wind and sought the shadowed doorway of a deserted building.

Deeply patient, they waited.

Idiot or no, the fourniers strains were dimly conscious of an other, other-than-unseen viewer.

Imagine a living mass of flesh, a million eyes!

Human speech is like an empty tent where a wizard has once lived, but not quite left.

True coherency, genuine fitness for life and eternity, seeming meanings and universal harmonies, wavered this side of the silent meteor that stands cold and dead and still with all its shine a dream and all its purpose done.


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