When Randolph Carter was thirty he lost the key of the gate of dreams. - H. P. Lovecraft

What we did see — for the mists were indeed all too malignly thinned — was something altogether different, and immeasurably more hideous and detestable. It was the utter, objective embodiment of the fantastic novelist’s “thing that should not be”;

I am writing this under an appreciable mental strain, since by tonight I shall be no more.

I have seen beyond the bounds of infinity and drawn down daemons from the stars. . . . I have harnessed the shadows that stride from world to world to sow death and madness. . . .