I have been so long master
that I would be master still, or at least that none other
should be master of me.

It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.

. . . a wind howling began, which seemed to form all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night.

Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!

Denn die Todten reiten Schnell. (For the dead travel fast.)

It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import.