#i believe their user is cosmo shining or cosmic shining | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

autolovecraft · 7 years

Text

And elsewhere, in endless cosmic cycle.

Would it unlock the successive doors that bar our free march down the strange hangings from his dreams throughout life—was equally aware of existence and yet he—if indeed there could exist at the center of the car with the angles of human beings alone.

Probably it did not dissent when they reached the old box containing it, but would plunge like a dizzy precipitation through the two Gates with the social order.

De Marigny saw one of the burrowing inner horrors against which the vaporous brains of the monstrous lights, in that black, clutching pits of a manifestation visible to his earthly eyes. His speech had an utterly diabolic sound to de Marigny paused, old Mr. Phillips spoke a harsh, shrill voice.

My own dreams, and bearded, singularly immobile face of the pedestals was vacant, and the outside absolute. He discovered just the bacterial and other worlds in the unknown solitudes of other planets and systems and galaxies and cosmic continua; spores of eternal life drifting from world to world, universe to universe, yet without dissolution of the Carter parchment. You others have guessed—I felt that minutes ago. Now, it was connected with himself. He understood that he wished to cross the barrier to the edge of reality, ineffable and undimensioned, which the scribe renders as The Prolonged of Life. There was another shape, too, which was also somehow in the south of France, and I am ready to grant that which his presence had demanded.

The Hindu bowed, though held by a plane of some of these, however, as though suns and worlds and universes had converged upon one point whose very position in space they had been left vacant and untended through his neglect since the beings of the illusion of identity. And when he was going to visit frantic vengeance on an angleworm. He believes he may be. A year passed, and gazed at the breathlessly lovely panorama of rocky slope and verdant valley, with its little evil windows and great roof sloping nearly to the multiform entity of Earth which is outside all earths, all great wizards, all great thinkers, all universes, and all stages of growth in each one of the house. The cosmos seemed to fall into bizarre patterns like the chirpings and murmurings of objects unknown on Earth, though he never would tell us anything about it; but when they both served in the night that Carter had tried to make plain what was happening was not one gate alone but a word.

This time he became almost glad he had seemed blasphemously abnormal seemed now only ineffably majestic.

He had seen on a steaming planet building strange cities and incredible scenes which visions of the hills behind Arkham. Mr. Aspinwall, this gentleman is a mask, and after that final cosmic reality which belies all local perspectives and narrow partial views; and could not think this case calls for the Congregational Hospital. After a strange and lonely one, Randolph Carter on a memorable joint furlough, the stale and prosy triteness, and kept it by him nightly in its cryptical arabesques; but he saw that the silver key handed down from his infinity of duplicates—to tide him over that period of suspended animation with utmost care, planning to have picked up an odd gift of prophecy; and he did not belong in the now-familiar rhythm of Earth millions of years before. But the moment of consuming fright that he covered his alien body with the aid of the old Carter place he had undergone he burned for the silence still lasted, Randolph Carter forgot the horror of destroyed individuality. On this occasion he crawled in as usual, lighting one match after another as he gazed. Damnation, he surmised, was in his consciousness-plane, and that the satisfaction of one ultimate, eternal Carter outside space and time to that transcendent Entity from which he dimly remembered from his infinity of directions there are things in his blouse pocket for the metal envelope up the road. Uncle Chris had told him something odd once about an old unopened box with a dark, amidst the greater terror than that which he had left, and friends remembered it when he danced back to Yaddith, for in its aromatic box of fragrant wood, and he had left in the mighty silence, mental and physical, may be able to trace his footprints from the tripods increased, and would desperately practice human speech with the tall, hieroglyphed door. We in India, where 'Umr at-Tawil, the man of 1928, at the breathlessly lovely panorama of rocky slope, and through me came in touch with others; and reacted unusually to things that are, and the alien and incomprehensible designs and disposed according to that which grows out of old Benijah been dead for thirty years ago. Aspinwall remained where he could not lay aside the crude, vague instincts which they shared with the social order. They could pause from their everlasting dreams to the crude, vague instincts which they formed, This, he would probably be discovered and destroyed by the Most Ancient One told him that this seeker of dreams and readings be correct, it was derived. Warped and bigoted with preconceived illusions of justice, freedom, and the dead, black woodland, gnarled, neglected tripods wove themselves into fantastic and inexplicable shapes, and stoop-shouldered. Then the turbaned figure slumped oddly into a new hiding-place necessary. De Marigny and Phillips scarcely know what we're up against. Unable to assert his identity, forced to live; yet at that last and first of secrets which lies behind all scenes and dreams; and being reassured, skipped off across leagues of twilight meadow and spied the old remembered way past graceful lines of rolling hill and stone-walled meadow, distant vale and hanging woodland, gnarled, neglected tripods wove themselves into fantastic and inexplicable shapes, and large, white-mittened hand, had nothing further to reveal.

For the first in the Foreign Legion in the nighted and immemorial crypts that burrow beneath that brooding, haunted cave within a cave, on a high knoll that cleared the trees except to the lost one now reigned as king on the hill. Was anything forgotten? Curious concepts flowed conflictingly through a brain dazed with unaccustomed vistas and unforeseen disclosures.

The Guide did not flinch in fear. The Man of Truth is beyond good and evil and beauty and too shrewd for dreams. No death, no more or less than the peerless beauty of Narath with its hundred carven gates and domes of chalcedony, which, though the lawyer emitted a series of snorts and bellows. From the first Sir Randolph Carter was sitting on a dark, amidst the seething chaos, but the immemorial lore of Yaddith, unharmed. Now he must achieve suspended animation with marvelous success. At the sunset hour, when he was in the diary of a single glimpse. While most of its poverty in beauty and its contents and rode away in his pocket telescope; but some of these statements are very extreme. The abnormal ticking went on, beating out the dark orifice with tense, adventurous assurance, lighting one match after another as he had hitherto deemed capable of existing. It wearied Carter to grasp such things. He did not himself understand these words, yet without even the Great War. With his new knowledge he could not be.

The day before, there were any original as unreality, it was really immaterial to what chance made our fathers think and feel, and had borne certain things made him wish to lose not a moment he thought of words whose mental substance he flung into the sheath of shining metal. Carter, and is, of which clamored Forms he strove harder and harder to utilize the monstrous lights, in that cave within a cave, did not change; but of any legible explanation there was the crumbling farmhouse of old times, however, change the planetary angle and send the user at will through the root-choked fissure to the edge of the Carter-memories which troubled him.

While none of you have been more prudent had they avoided commerce with him and strove to drown their ennui in bustle and pretended that the silver key at sunset on that seventh of October 1883? The gray old scholar, author and dreamer who had just room to perform the ritual had taken the wistful Boston dreamer to Bayonne, in accordance with their will.

#H.P. Lovecraft #E. Hoffman Price #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains #THe Silver Key #1926 #Through the Gates of the Silver Key #1932 #1933 #Silver Key week #Randolph Carter

2 notes · View notes