I Could Not Help Feeling That They

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

My Opinion Of My Whole Experience Varies From Time To Time.

Unhappy Is He To Whom The Memories Of Childhood Bring Only Fear And Sadness.

Good And Evil And Beauty And Ugliness Are Only Ornamental Fruits Of Perspective, Whose Sole Value Lies In Their Linkage To What Chance Made Our Fathers Think And Feel, And Whose Finer Details Are Different For Every Race And Culture.

To Be Bitter Is To Attribute Intent And Personality To The Formless, Infinite, Unchanging And Unchangeable Void. We Drift On A Chartless, Resistless Sea. Let Us Sing When We Can, And Forget The Rest.