Patrick.G.P

“Now, more than ever before, it is evident that man must find his centre, his 'soul', or perish as a self-conscious entity.”
― Kenneth Grant, Outside the Circles Of Time

“We think we’re walking into the future. We fool ourselves! But every last damn one of us is walking straight into the past.”
― David Keenan, This Is Memorial Device

“I had long ago determined that I would devote my life to literary scholarship. Not, let me emphasise, the dry-as-dust scholarship of academe, the crushing orthodoxy to be found in universities, but rather the recondite scholarship that is a journey into the unknown. I refer, chiefly, to those dead authors whose works savour of the uncanny and the marvellous, authors whose unique perspectives are beyond the self-stultifying purview of the modern critical mania for so-called realism. For my part I chose the mysteries, and the hierophant of mystery was an obscure author called Arthur Machen.”
― Mark Samuels, The Man Who Collected Machen and Other Weird Tales

“It was difficult to say which were the more dismal, these deserted streets that wandered away to right and left, or the great main thoroughfare with its narcotic and shadowy life. For the latter appeared vast, interminable, grey, and those who travelled by it were scarcely real, the bodies of the living, but rather the uncertain and misty shapes that come sand go across the desert in an Eastern tale, when men look up from the sand and see a caravan pass them, all in silence, without a cry or a greeting. So they passed and repassed each other on those pavements, appearing and vanishing, each intent on his own secret, and wrapped in obscurity.”
― Arthur Machen, The Hill of Dreams