When Randolph Carter Was Thirty He Lost

It Is An Unfortunate Fact That Every Man Who Seeks To Disseminate Knowledge Must Contend Not Only Against Ignorance Itself, But Against False Instruction As Well. No Sooner Do We Deem Ourselves Free From A Particularly Gross Superstition, Than We Are Confronted By Some Enemy To Learning Who Would Set Aside All The Intellectual Progress Of Years, And Plunge Us Back Into The Darkness Of Mediaeval Disbelief.

When Randolph Carter Was Thirty He Lost The Key Of The Gate Of Dreams.

Our Brains Deliberately Make Us Forget Things, To Prevent Insanity

And Where Nyarlathotep Went, Rest Vanished, For The Small Hours Were Rent With The Screams Of Nightmare.

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