Toil Without Song Is Like A Weary

West Of Arkham The Hills Rise Wild, And There Are Valleys With Deep Woods That No Axe Has Ever Cut.

The World Is Indeed Comic, But The Joke Is On Mankind.

The Old Ones Were, The Old Ones Are, And The Old Ones Shall Be. Not In The Spaces We Know, But Between Them. They Walk Serene And Primal, Undimensioned And To Us Unseen.

There Are Probably Seven Persons, In All, Who Really Like My Work; And They Are Enough. I Should Write Even If I Were The Only Patient Reader, For My Aim Is Merely Self-expression.

In My Actual Imaginative Contact With Life, I Am Vastly More Responsive To Beauty Than To Horror - Indeed, I Never Experience Real Cosmic Horror Except In Infrequent Nightmares. However, When I Come To Record My Various Imaginative Experiences, I Generally Find That Only The Horror Items Have Any Uniqueness Or Originality. Others Have Seen The Same Beautiful Things That I Have Seen, & Have Sung Them More Nobly.