H. P. Lovecraft

H. P. Lovecraft

Howard Phillips Lovecraft (August 20, 1890 – March 15, 1937) was an American author who achieved posthumous fame through his influential works of horror fiction. He was virtually unknown and published only in pulp magazines before he died in poverty, but he is now regarded as one of the most significant 20th-century authors in his genre. 

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But are not the dreams of poets and the tales of travellers notoriously false?

We shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their ears after midnight.

Ocean is more ancient than the mountains and freighted with the memories and the dreams of Time.

Toil without song is like a weary journey without an end.

I am disillusioned enough to know that no man's opinion on any subject is worth a damn unless backed up with enough genuine information to make him really know what he's talking about.

Blue green grey white or black, smooth ruffled or mountainous, that ocean is not silent.

Heaven knows where I'll end up - but it's a safe bet that I'll never be at the top of anything! Nor do I particularly care to be.

Searchers after horror haunt strange far places.

I fear my enthusiasm flags when real work is demanded of me.

I never ask a man what his business is for it never interests me. What I ask him about are his thoughts and dreams.

To the scientist there is the joy in pursuing truth which nearly counteracts the depressing revelations of truth.

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

I couldn't live a week without a private library - indeed I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.

The process of delving into the black abyss is to me the keenest form of fascination.

Bunch together a group of people deliberately chosen for strong religious feelings and you have a practical guarantee of dark morbidities expressed in crime perversion and insanity.

The world is indeed comic but the joke is on mankind.

But more wonderful than the lore of old men and the lore of books is the secret lore of ocean.

If religion were true its followers would not try to bludgeon their young into an artificial conformity, but would merely insist on their unbending quest for truth irrespective of artificial backgrounds or practical consequences.

What a man does for pay is of little significance. What he is as a sensitive instrument responsive to the world's beauty is everything!

There be those who say that things and places have souls and there be those who say they have not, I dare not say myself but I will tell of The Street.

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