Disintegration Is Quite Painless, I Assure You.

To Me There Is Nothing More Fraught With Mystery & Terror Than A Remote Massachusetts Farmhouse Against A Lonely Hill. Where Else Could An Outbreak Like The Salem Witchcraft Have Occurred?

The One Test Of The Really Weird (story) Is Simply This--whether Or Not There Be Excited In The Reader A Profound Sense Of Dread, And Of Contact With Unknown Spheres And Powers; A Subtle Attitude Of Awed Listening, As If For The Beating Of Black Wings Or The Scratching Of Outside Shapes And Entities On The Known Universe's Utmost Rim.

Contrary To What You May Assume, I Am Not A Pessimist But An Indifferentist- That Is, I Don't Make The Mistake Of Thinking That The... Cosmos... Gives A Damn One Way Or The The Other About The Especial Wants And Ultimate Welfare Of Mosquitoes, Rats, Lice, Dogs, Men, Horses, Pterodactyls, Trees, Fungi, Dodos, Or Other Forms Of Biological Energy.

Despite My Solitary Life, I Have Found Infinite Joy In Books And Writing, And Am By Far Too Much Interested In The Affairs Of The World To Quit The Scene Before Nature Shall Claim Me.

Children Will Always Be Afraid Of The Dark, And Men With Minds Sensitive To Hereditary Impulse Will Always Tremble At The Thought Of The Hidden And Fathomless Worlds Of Strange Life Which May Pulsate In The Gulfs Beyond The Stars, Or Press Hideously Upon Our Own Globe In Unholy Dimensions Which Only The Dead And The Moonstruck Can Glimpse.