Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. <i>In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.</i> - H. P. Lovecraft

In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulu waits dreaming

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn

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

It’s hard to have done all one’s growing up since 33 — but that’s a damn sight better than not growing up at all.

"Common sense" in reflecting on these subjects, I assured my friend with some warmth, is merely a stupid absence of imagination and mental flexibility.

Man's respect for the imponderables varies according to his mental constitution and environment. Through certain modes of thought and training it can be elevated tremendously, yet there is always a limit. The man or nation of high culture may acknowledge to great lengths the restraints imposed by conventions and honour, but beyond a certain point primitive will or desire cannot be curbed. Denied anything ardently desired, the individual or state will argue and parley just so long — then, if the impelling motive be sufficiently great, will cast aside every rule and break down every acquired inhibition, plunging viciously after the object wished; all the more fantastically savage because of previous repression.