The Unknown ... Became For Our Primitive

My Reason For Writing Stories Is To Give Myself The Satisfaction Of Visualising More Clearly And Detailedly And Stably The Vague, Elusive, Fragmentary Impressions Of Wonder, Beauty, And Adventurous Expectancy Which Are Conveyed To Me By Certain Sights (scenic, Architectural, Atmospheric, Etc.), Ideas, Occurrences, And Images Encountered In Art And Literature.

Disintegration Is Quite Painless, I Assure You.

In London There Is A Man Who Screams When The Church Bells Ring.

Religion Itself Is An Absurdity And An Anomaly, And Paganism Is Acceptable Only Because It Represents That Purely Orgiastic Phase Of Religion Farthest From Reality.

Incurable Lover Of The Grotesque