Memory Sometimes Makes Merciful Deletions.

In My Dreams I Found A Little Of The Beauty I Had Vainly Sought In Life, And Wandered Through Old Gardens And Enchanted Woods.

Intellectually, The Republican Idea Deserves The Tolerance And Respect One Gives To The Dead.

I Shall Never Sleep Calmly Again When I Think Of The Horrors That Lurk Ceaselessly Behind Life In Time And In Space, And Of Those Unhallowed Blasphemies From Elder Stars Which Dream Beneath The Sea, Known And Favoured By A Nightmare Cult Ready And Eager To Loose Them Upon The World Whenever Another Earthquake Shall Heave Their Monstrous Stone City Again To The Sun And Air.

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.

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