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19 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1893
“Oh God! what a thing it is to be a ghost, cowering and shivering in an altered world, a prey to apprehension and despair!” (42)
We so rely upon the orderly operation of familiar natural laws that any seeming suspension of them is noted as a menace to our safety, a warning of unthinkable calamity. (16)
Standing upon the shore of eternity, I turn for a last look landward over the course by which I came. There are twenty years of footprints fairly distinct, the impressions of bleeding feet. They lead through poverty and pain, devious and unsure, as of one staggering beneath a burden --
Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow.
Ah, the poet's prophecy of Me -- how admirable, how dreadfully admirable!”
These sensations were unaccompanied by thought. The intellectual part of his nature was already effaced; he had power only to feel, and feeling was torment. (57)
Over all was that air of abandonment and decay which seems nowhere so fit and significant as in a village of the forgotten dead. (91)
From among the trees on either side he caught broken and incoherent whispers in a strange tongue which yet he partly understood. They seemed to him fragmentary utterances of a monstrous conspiracy against his body and soul. (72)
“There are certain emotions which a writer can easily enough excite […] But for my ghost story to be effective you must be made to feel fear – at least a strong sense of the supernatural […] I have a right to expect that if you read me at all you will give me a chance; that you will make yourself accessible to the emotion that I try to inspire.” (106)
In the blaze of a midsummer noonday the Old Manton house was hardly true to its traditions. It was of the earth, earthly. The sunshine caressed it warmly and affectionately, with evident disregard of its bad reputation. (128)
Consciousness is the creature of Rhythm. (143)
But a moment later I heard, seemingly from a great distance, his fine clear voice in a barbaric chant, which as I listened brought before some inner spiritual sense a consciousness of some far, strange land peopled with beings having forbidden powers. (162)
Surely in such a mind imagination once kindled might burn with a lawless flame, penetrating and enveloping the entire structure. (184)
This apartment was suffused with a faint greenish light, the source of which I could not determine, making everything distinctly visible, though nothing was sharply defined. (195)
So old seemed these relics, these vestiges of vanity and memorials of affection and piety, so battered and worn and stained -- so neglected, deserted, forgotten the place, that I could not help thinking myself the discoverer of the burial-ground of a prehistoric race of men whose very name was long extinct. (203)