In the hill country, civilization steals in last, and the people retain much of the crude but vigorous mode of expression of the colonial days and ea… - Robert E. Howard

Then he shrieked. In his hand the wooden shaft suddenly writhed. Its rigid outline became pliant, melting in his grasp. He tried to throw it from him, but it was too late. He held a living serpent in his naked hand, and already it had coiled about his wrist and its wicked wedge-shaped head darted at his muscular arm. He screamed again and his eyes became distended, his features purple. He went to his knees shaken by an awful convulsion, and then lay still.

But who is this who rides in silver white
Attire that shames the stars across the night?
Helmet and shield and corselet all a-gleam,
Like some crusader from a drifting dream
Upon a prancing jackass shod with flame—
Rise, heralds of the past, bray forth his name

Wenn das Leben eine Illusion ist, dann bin ich es nicht weniger, und somit ist die Illusion für mich Wirklichkeit.