“I am essentially a recluse who will have very little to do with people wherever …” — H. P. Lovecraft

It is a mistake to fancy that horror is associated inextricably with darkness, silence, and solitude.

Throw a stick, and the servile dog wheezes and pants and shambles to bring it to you. Do the same before a cat, and he will eye you with coolly polite and somewhat bored amusement.

From even the greatest of horrors, irony is seldom absent.

A dog is a pitiful thing, depending wholly on companionship, and utterly lost except in packs or by the side of his master. Leave him alone, and he does not know what to do except bark and howl and trot about till sheer exhaustion forces him to sleep.