top Epicure in the Terrible

"Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places. For them are the catacombs of Ptolemais, and the carven mausolea of the nightmare countries. They climb to the moonlit towers of ruined Rhine castles, and falter down black cobwebbed steps beneath the scattered stones of forgotten cities in Asia. The haunted wood and the desolate mountain are their shrines, and they linger around the sinister monoliths on uninhabited islands. But the true epicure in the terrible, to whom a new thrill of unutterable ghastliness is the chief end and justification of existence, esteems most of all the ancient, lonely farmhouses of backwoods New England; for there the dark elements of strength, solitude, grotesqueness, and ignorance combine to form the perfection of the hideous."

HPL, 1920

top New England Barn Door
top In the Wake of the Storm
top  Tranquility of Place
top Nighted Woods

"The Night"

When the night comes
What we do not see
We doubt whether it is
But the day
The day shows hardly more
That the night
The day is misleading
We believe to see
And we see little
And we believe little
And in the full day
That we do not know
The glorious the absolute in the daytime
Would be dazzled to us
Until the blindness
We who have never seen
Of quite our eyes
We who have never believed
With all our heart.

Paul Huet

top  Sepulchre

What’s yet in this
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand Deaths: yet Death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.

Wm. Shakespeare

top Starry Wisdom Library
top Love Is Strong As Death

"Love Is Strong As Death"

We are aware that such what is carved in stone may well acquire a character of absoluteness and it is only our perception and cognizant dexterity that allows us the freedom not to wholly reject concepts in which we do not readily understand. The decaying clock tower stands at the crest of the great eastern hill overlooking old Providence marking the northwestern boundary of Brown University. There is an aspect of melancholy and sorrow about the aging tower with the ivy imposing its unrelenting and unchallenged pressure upon the crumbling ancient limestone bricks. No one alive today can summon any recollection of hearing the great brass bell peal nor does anyone remember observing the four timepieces perform their assigned duty.

As a child, when an opportunity to do so and be sufficiently unnoticed, I would steal away from the family home hurry south along Prospect St. crossing Waterman St. and passing through the small easily overlooked northwest gate of the University grounds. Taking just three steps the boy would find himself before the great iron black door marking the entryway to the tenebrific tower interior which was, he believed, the repository of such unfathomable horrors that one might abruptly burst forth dragging him into one of the age old tunnels beneath the ancient hill through a portal he new existed, now sealed, in the dank sub-cellar of this very tower. Even with this youthful apprehension I would pause, eyes fixed upon the perplexing words carved in granite above the dark iron door "Love Is Strong As Death." There was a real esoteric strangeness about these words and although he could not acquire a sense of meaning the sphinx- like mystery connected with him.

I buried my best friend today. Tonight he stole away unnoticed from the family home walking slowly south along Prospect crossing Waterman passing through the overlooked gateway taking three steps. “Love Is Strong As Death”. The clock tower had suggested something to him many years past and the child now grown is aware of the unseen and undimensioned in- between spaces of reality and like the dying clock tower with its closely guarded sorrows kept imprisoned behind a heavy iron door so I find myself a repository of incomprehensible melancholy, closely guarded and secured, imprisoned beyond my very own heavy iron door.

Dennis James Laux