The town knew about darkness. It knew about the darkness that comes on the land when rotation hides the land from the sun, and about the darkness of the human soul.

Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.

These are the town's secrets, and some will later be known and some will never be known. The town keeps them all with the ultimate poker face. The town cares f…

Understand death? Sure. That was when the monsters got you.

Presque tous les hommes ressemblent a ces grands palais deserts dont le proprietaire n'habite que quelques pieces; et il ne penetre jamais danss les ailes cond…

One trembles to think of that mysterious thing in the soul, which seems to acknowledge no human jurisdiction, but in spite of the individual's own innocent sel…

Seven feet of English ground, or as much more as he may be taller than other men.