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Cosmic Horror Quotes
Quotes tagged as "cosmic-horror"
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“The basis of all true cosmic horror is violation of the order of nature, and the profoundest violations are always the least concrete and describable.”
― Selected Letters III: 1929-1931
― Selected Letters III: 1929-1931
“Come, then, City That Never Sleeps. Let me show you what lurks in the empty spaces where nightmares dare not tread.”
― The City We Became
― The City We Became
“Far, far below the deepest delvings of the Dwarves, the world is gnawed by nameless things. Even Sauron knows them not. They are older than he. Now I have walked there, but I will bring no report to darken the light of day”
―
―
“There are black zones of shadow close to our daily paths, and now and then some evil soul breaks a passage through.”
― The Thing on the Doorstep
― The Thing on the Doorstep
“I turn away and stare through the window at the field where the scotch broom creeps yellow as hell toward my doorstep. Six years and it has advanced from the hinterlands to the picket fence in the back yard. Six more years and it will have chewed this house to the foundation, braided my bones in its hair.”
― The Imago Sequence and Other Stories
― The Imago Sequence and Other Stories
“For thin is the veil betwixt man and the godless deep. The skies are haunted by that which it were madness to know; and strange abominations pass evermore between earth and moon and athwart the galaxies. Unnameable things have come to us in alien horror and will come again. And the evil of the stars is not as the evil of earth.”
― The Beast Of Averoigne
― The Beast Of Averoigne
“The measurements of space and time, the photographs of far stars and of points of light which proved to be composed of thousands of stars, filled him with an awe which felt like the edge of a delicious panic.”
― Midnight Sun
― Midnight Sun
“I play the seven-stringed guitar by the fountain in the municipal square. I use my knife and fork to slice the steak. In the cathedral, I describe the teachings of the Goddess to the believers. I reach out my right hand and leave the carriage with the help of a gentleman. I get the new dress I had been eyeing for so long, and I can't wait to change into it. I stride forward with my four legs as I'm being chased by a child. I laugh loudly as I totter about and play with a dog…
Suddenly, we tremble. We look up into the sky and see illusory, thin lines drilling out from our bodies. They extend to an infinite height, extending beyond the grayish-white fog. They extend into an ancient palace and land in the hands of a tall figure shrouded in fog.”
― Lord of the Mysteries Volume 7
Suddenly, we tremble. We look up into the sky and see illusory, thin lines drilling out from our bodies. They extend to an infinite height, extending beyond the grayish-white fog. They extend into an ancient palace and land in the hands of a tall figure shrouded in fog.”
― Lord of the Mysteries Volume 7
“It’s a song, and it’s war drums, and it’s science too. It’s experiments. It’s rapture. And it saw me. It saw right through me. I saw the whole world and it’s so empty.”
― The Lights of Erde-Zwei
― The Lights of Erde-Zwei
“What was this world? In what petrified and strange insanity was I given to live? Would I survive long enough to find the answer? To find the exit? Would I ever understand, from the core of my loneliness, this otherworldly apparatus that was my life? And suddenly, in the concrete, empty teachers’ lounge—with its large table covered with red cloth, with its cabinet for the registers, with its mold-stained paintings—I was enveloped in a fear that I had never felt before, even in my most terrifying dreams; not of death, not of suffering, not of terrible diseases, not of the sun going dark, but fear at the thought that I will never understand, that my life was not long enough and my mind not good enough to understand. That I had been given many signs and I didn’t know how to read them. That like everyone else I will rot in vain, in my sins and stupidity and ignorance, while the dense, intricate, overwhelming riddle of the world will continue on, clear as though it were in your hand, as natural as breathing, as simple as love, and it will flow into the void, pristine and unsolved.”
― Solenoid
― Solenoid
“The revelation came in flashes: the planet visible only in moments, during the surges of light blasted between the orbital mirrors and the satellites scattered perilously close to it. Each time it flickered into view, exposed by the relentless pulses, it almost disappeared again into the cold dark of space and time, fully reemerging altered. Size fluctuating by percentages that defied physics: swelling, contracting. Colour shifting from muted greyish green to bruised emerald, lines of deeper shadow pulsing across its surface.
It looked alive. Pulsating. Breathing. As if it existed in different planes, not fully anchored to this reality, a visitor from some orthogonal dimension bleeding through.
Two moons orbited it, locked in unnatural proximity, different sizes but bound like Siamese twins in gravitational chains. Both coppery and burnt, their surfaces scorched to a uniform metallic sheen, craters etched with patterns too regular to be natural.
Constructions dotted them: angular spires and lattices, satellites vibrating with faint energy signatures even at this distance. Ramps; vast, curving structures; encircled the planet itself, rings of alloy and field emitters fixing the moons in place, stabilising what should not be stable.
But the horror only grew from here. Where the planet stood, the fabric of space flared and whined in a horrible growl, audible now through the facility’s audio relays; a static-laced rumble that set teeth on edge. A violent, ruthless pull emanated from it: gravitational anomalies spiking, temporal eddies registering as localised slowdowns in light propagation.
Instruments screamed with conflicting data; mass readings inverting, entropy values negative, quantum fluctuations off the charts. Horrible stats poured in; radiation profiles that matched no known isotope, magnetic fields twisting in impossible knots, biological signatures flickering like ghosts in the noise.
The entire planet was one huge anomaly; an infection spreading through space and time, corrupting the very rules that bound the solar system. It did not belong. It hungered.”
― The Crack
It looked alive. Pulsating. Breathing. As if it existed in different planes, not fully anchored to this reality, a visitor from some orthogonal dimension bleeding through.
Two moons orbited it, locked in unnatural proximity, different sizes but bound like Siamese twins in gravitational chains. Both coppery and burnt, their surfaces scorched to a uniform metallic sheen, craters etched with patterns too regular to be natural.
Constructions dotted them: angular spires and lattices, satellites vibrating with faint energy signatures even at this distance. Ramps; vast, curving structures; encircled the planet itself, rings of alloy and field emitters fixing the moons in place, stabilising what should not be stable.
But the horror only grew from here. Where the planet stood, the fabric of space flared and whined in a horrible growl, audible now through the facility’s audio relays; a static-laced rumble that set teeth on edge. A violent, ruthless pull emanated from it: gravitational anomalies spiking, temporal eddies registering as localised slowdowns in light propagation.
Instruments screamed with conflicting data; mass readings inverting, entropy values negative, quantum fluctuations off the charts. Horrible stats poured in; radiation profiles that matched no known isotope, magnetic fields twisting in impossible knots, biological signatures flickering like ghosts in the noise.
The entire planet was one huge anomaly; an infection spreading through space and time, corrupting the very rules that bound the solar system. It did not belong. It hungered.”
― The Crack
“The library at Hellebore, however, was different. Appendage to the main campus, it acted only in the faculty's interest, which seemed to revolve exclusively around fucking us students over.”
― The Library at Hellebore
― The Library at Hellebore
“The real universe is just that black. The universe is a dark forest. Every civilization is an armed hunter stalking through the trees like a ghost, gently pushing aside branches that block the path and trying to tread without sound. Even breathing is done with care. The hunter has to be careful, because everywhere in the forest are stealthy hunters like him. If he finds other life — another hunter, an angel or a demon, a delicate infant or a tottering old man, a fairy or a demigod — there's only one thing he can do: open fire and eliminate them. In this forest, hell is other people. An eternal threat that any life that exposes its own existence will be swiftly wiped out. This is the picture of cosmic civilization. It's the explanation for the Fermi Paradox. But in this dark forest, there's a stupid child called humanity, who has built a bonfire and is standing beside it shouting, 'Here I am! Here I am!”
― The Dark Forest
― The Dark Forest
“Together then. Together, and sealed it with a kiss that tasted of copper and starlight.”
― Krelløy: A Lovecraftian Horror Novel of Arctic Isolation and Cosmic Annihilation
― Krelløy: A Lovecraftian Horror Novel of Arctic Isolation and Cosmic Annihilation
“The Behemoth & The Godspawn Surfer by Stewart Stafford
Jagged flesh in the behemoth's belly,
The city encircled by its tongue's pall,
I drank toxic fumes and pumice smoke,
As I tried surfing along a lava waterfall.
My obsidian bone board, surging fire,
Cryptid blood drips from a snapping jaw,
In a flash of the beast's fungal jawline,
I counted the vacant dead within its maw.
In a blaze, I was in its mouth and deeper,
I rounded the gullet's scalding turn,
Into a sea of swirling bones, stomach bile,
Where half-chewed skyscrapers churn.
"Leave me, Godspawn!" the monster roared,
"Spoil not my prey feasting for my fangs to cut!"
My board speared into its festering heart,
It ejected me in a howling thunderclap of sulphur soot.
And hurled me skyward, sand-blasted, and bruised,
The plume cleared, and the beast stood, wound-free—
Lava floods scorched, the city’s debt — a lifeblood hue,
By sunrise, my perennial task returned to enslave me.
© 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
―
Jagged flesh in the behemoth's belly,
The city encircled by its tongue's pall,
I drank toxic fumes and pumice smoke,
As I tried surfing along a lava waterfall.
My obsidian bone board, surging fire,
Cryptid blood drips from a snapping jaw,
In a flash of the beast's fungal jawline,
I counted the vacant dead within its maw.
In a blaze, I was in its mouth and deeper,
I rounded the gullet's scalding turn,
Into a sea of swirling bones, stomach bile,
Where half-chewed skyscrapers churn.
"Leave me, Godspawn!" the monster roared,
"Spoil not my prey feasting for my fangs to cut!"
My board speared into its festering heart,
It ejected me in a howling thunderclap of sulphur soot.
And hurled me skyward, sand-blasted, and bruised,
The plume cleared, and the beast stood, wound-free—
Lava floods scorched, the city’s debt — a lifeblood hue,
By sunrise, my perennial task returned to enslave me.
© 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
―
“The part of us that's me argues about that; who defines love, what is love, isn't it all just chemical crap, invented by us, bought and sold by humans?
The part of us that's Axa tells me to shut up and LOVE, dammit.”
― My Name Isn't Paul: A Cosmic Horror Novella
The part of us that's Axa tells me to shut up and LOVE, dammit.”
― My Name Isn't Paul: A Cosmic Horror Novella
“The Outer Wastes by Stewart Stafford
Echoes across the cosmos
Supernovae of Gemini suns,
Truth storms of meteor showers,
Coronas flashing frigid guns.
Spinning stone bedrock cracks,
A diaspora exiled to the void,
Interstellar offspring pushing
Sentience for the ultra-paranoid.
Pandora's black hole gifts,
Astrologer spins a cosmic warning,
Scrubbing up, celestial enlightenment,
Serpentine Adam's apple ripe for boring.
© 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
―
Echoes across the cosmos
Supernovae of Gemini suns,
Truth storms of meteor showers,
Coronas flashing frigid guns.
Spinning stone bedrock cracks,
A diaspora exiled to the void,
Interstellar offspring pushing
Sentience for the ultra-paranoid.
Pandora's black hole gifts,
Astrologer spins a cosmic warning,
Scrubbing up, celestial enlightenment,
Serpentine Adam's apple ripe for boring.
© 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
―
“We had the breathtaking display of the stars every night, telling us there was no end to wonder or distances to be crossed, no end to beautiful things. Men and cattle marched across all this, under it and in it, bound for the slaughterhouse, bound for their graves; but what a march it was, an odyssey of breath in your lungs and the wind on your face, far better than chewing grass in one spot and seeing nothing but the patch of ground your shadow fell on.”
―
―
“Can I smoke?”
This time the receptionist narrows her eyes at Marion. “No,” she says. “You— No, you can’t smoke anywhere on Site 200. Just because it’s an administration building doesn’t mean we don’t have lungs. Or labor law.”
Marion notices the exasperation on the young woman’s face. “I’ve asked you that before, haven’t I?”
“Twice in the last quarter-hour,” the receptionist says. “You must really need a smoke.” She’s genuinely puzzled at the repeated question, and she’s doing a bad job of concealing her puzzlement.
“You think this is like Memento, don’t you?” Marion offers, charitably. “You think I have no long-term memory, and if I stay in one place for too long I forget why I’m there.”
The receptionist is only just old enough to remember that film. “I… guess?”
― There Is No Antimemetics Division
This time the receptionist narrows her eyes at Marion. “No,” she says. “You— No, you can’t smoke anywhere on Site 200. Just because it’s an administration building doesn’t mean we don’t have lungs. Or labor law.”
Marion notices the exasperation on the young woman’s face. “I’ve asked you that before, haven’t I?”
“Twice in the last quarter-hour,” the receptionist says. “You must really need a smoke.” She’s genuinely puzzled at the repeated question, and she’s doing a bad job of concealing her puzzlement.
“You think this is like Memento, don’t you?” Marion offers, charitably. “You think I have no long-term memory, and if I stay in one place for too long I forget why I’m there.”
The receptionist is only just old enough to remember that film. “I… guess?”
― There Is No Antimemetics Division
“Reality was a tapestry of immeasurable proportions, sewn together by the dimensional threads of height, length, width, and time. It was the cosmic spider-silk that forever
spins away into the horizon of the future.”
―
spins away into the horizon of the future.”
―
“His kind were more like birds who sang in the morning to let each other know they'd survived the night. But he was different. He sang at dusk to tell the stars he'd missed them. And one night, the stars sang back.”
― The Worm and His Kings
― The Worm and His Kings
“A corpse so large it becomes landscape, so ancient that the world has grown over it, its flesh turned to petrified valleys, its bones carved into foundations, its breath still lingering in the rot-thickened air.”
― VOiDMAN: The Book
― VOiDMAN: The Book
“We are the children of the valley. Borne of its magick, we must at some time return to its substance.”
― Dreams of Lovecraftian Horror
― Dreams of Lovecraftian Horror
“But the moon wasn’t a half moon anymore. It was tilted and wrong and a three-quarter moon and it got larger, way larger, large like a moon rising on the horizon, only it wasn’t rising. It was smack in the middle of the sky, way too big, way too visible. You could see details on the craters even without the binoculars that before I’d seen with Matt’s telescope.”
― Life As We Knew It
― Life As We Knew It
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