Mediocrity Knows Nothing Higher Than Itself, But

To Let The Brain Work Without Sufficient Material Is Like Racing An Engine. It Racks Itself To Pieces.

It Is The Sweetest Spring Within The Memory Of Man. So Green, So Mild, So Beautiful! Ah, What A Contrast Between Nature Without And My Own Soul So Torn With Doubt And Terror!

One Must Wait Till It Comes.

A Hound It Was, An Enormous Coal-black Hound, But Not Such A Hound As Mortal Eyes Have Ever Seen. Fire Burst From Its Open Mouth, Its Eyes Glowed With A Smouldering Glare, Its Muzzle And Hackles And Dewlap Were Outlined In Flickering Flame. Never In The Delirious Dream Of A Disordered Brain Could Anything More Savage, More Appalling, More Hellish Be Conceived Than That Dark Form And Savage Face Which Broke Upon Us Out Of The Wall Of Fog.

The World Is Big Enough For Us. No Ghosts Need Apply.