Unhappy Is He To Whom The Memories

There Now Ensued A Series Of Incidents Which Transported Me To The Opposite Extremes Of Ecstasy And Horror; Incidents Which I Tremble To Recall And Dare Not Seek To Interpret.

Religion Struck Me So Vague A Thing At Best, That I Could Perceive No Advantage Of Any One System Over Any Other.

The Glorious Dryden, Refiner And Purifier Of English Verse, Did Less For Rhyme Than He Did For Metre.

That Is Not Dead Which Can Eternal Lie, And With Strange Aeons Even Death May Die.

Someday Our Piecing Together Of Knowledge Will Open Up Such Terrifying Vistas We Shall Either Go Mad Or Flee Into The Safety Of A New Dark Age.