The World Is Indeed Comic, But The

No New Horror Can Be More Terrible Than The Daily Torture Of The Commonplace.

I Never Ask A Man What His Business Is, For It Never Interests Me. What I Ask Him About Are His Thoughts And Dreams.

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.

I Am, Indeed, An Absolute Materialist So Far As Actual Belief Goes; With Not A Shred Of Credence In Any Form Of Supernaturalism—religion, Spiritualism, Transcendentalism, Metempsychosis, Or Immortality.

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