Lovecraft describes tales of an alien and abstract world gibbering and chattering just beyond the thin shell of our ordinary lives. The mere contemplation of which, is likely to damage the sanity of the ordinary person.

This is the only horror I enjoy. No need for shock and gore; bring on the cosmic creeping unknown!

To me, his use of anachronisms and old-fashioned words evoke a warm nostalgia

To approach the singular, cyclopean masonry. The tenebrous air, split by the preternatural, ululating shriek.

Descending the wide marmoreal flights, to traverse those streets of elder witchery.

That legend-haunted city of Arkham, with its clustering gambrel roofs that sway and sag over attics where witches hid from the King’s men.

News of the shocking final peril which gibbers unmentionably outside the ordered universe.

frightful slopes and blasphemous plateaus!

Unutterable and unnamable things that might lurk in the eldritch hovel.

“I have seen the dark universe yawning where the black planets roll without aim, Where they roll in their horror unheeded, Without knowledge, or lustre, or name.”

“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.”

“I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men. This I have known ever since I stretched out my fingers to the abomination within that great gilded frame; stretched out my fingers and touched a cold and unyielding surface of polished glass.”

“In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.”