opening statement purring

"it is said that in ulthar, which lies beyond the river skai, no man may kill a cat; and this i can verily believe as i gaze upon him who sitteth purring before the fire. for the cat is cryptic, and close to strange things which men cannot see. he is the soul of antique aegyptus, and bearer of tales from forgotten cities in meroë and ophir. he is the kin of the jungle's lords, and heir to the secrets of hoary and sinister africa. the sphinx is his cousin, and he speaks her language; but he is more ancient than the sphinx, and remembers that which she hath forgotten."
h.p.lovecraft, the cats of ulther.

Posted with Blogsy

black cats

''between dogs and cats my degree of choice is so great that it would never occur to me to compare the two, i have no active dislike for dogs ... but for the cat i have entertained a particular respect and affection ever since the earliest days of my infancy ... naturally one's preference in the matter of cats and dogs depends wholly upon ones temperment and point of view. the dog would appear to me to be the favorite of superficial, sentimental, and emotional people ... this is not to say that the cheaper elements do not also reside in the average cat-lover's love of cats, but merely to point out that in ailurophily there exists a basis of true aestheticism which kynophily does not possess ...

''throw a stick, and the servile dog wheezes and pants and stumbles to bring it to you. do the same before a cat, and he would eye you with coolly polite and somewhat bored amusement ... the dog barks and begs and tumbles to amuse you when you crack the whip. ... the cat on the other hand, charms you into playing for its benefit when it wishes to be amused; making you rush about the room with a paper on a string when it feels like exercise, but refusing all your attempts to make it play when it is not in the humour. that is personality and individuality and self respect--the calm mastery of a being whose life is its own and not yours ...

''the cat is a realist, and no hypocrit. he takes what pleases him when he wants it, and makes no promises. he never leads you to expect more from him than he gives, and if you choose to be stupidly victorian enough to mistake his purrs and rubbings of self satisfaction for marks of transient affection toward you, that is no fault of his. he would not for a moment have you believe that he wants more of you than food and warmth and shelter and amusement--''

h.p.lovecraft, something about cats.

eternal ruins

how dost thou lie, o rome, neath the foot of the teuton slaves are thy men, and bent to the will of thy conqueror. whither hath gone, great city, the race that gave law to all nations, subdu'd the east and the west, and made them bow down to thy consuls, knew not defeat, but gave it to all who attack'd thee?

roma enjoy'd.

dead! and replac'd by these wretches who cower in confusion. dead! they who gave us this empire to guard and to live in, rome, thou didst fall from thy pow'r with the proud race that made thee, and we, base italians, enjoy'd what we could not have builded.

h.p.lovecraft, on the ruin of rome.

something about cats

'' it is said in ulthar which lies beyond the river skai, no man may kill a cat, ... in ulthar, before ever the burgesses forbade the killing of cats, there dwelt an old cotter and his wife who delighted to trap and slay the cats of their neighbors. ... this old man and woman took pleasure in trapping and slaying every cat which came near to their hovel. ... but the villagers did not discuss such things with the old man and his wife; ... much as the owners of cats hated these odd folk, they feared them more ...




'' one day a caravan of strange wanders entered the narrow cobbled streets of ulthar. ... there was in the caravan a little boy with no father or mother, but only a tiny black kitten to cherish. ... on the third morning of the wanderers stay in ulthar, menes could not find his kitten, and as he sobbed in aloud in the market-place certain villagers told him of the old man and his wife, ... and when he heard these things his sobbing gave way to meditation, and finally to prayer. ...

'' that night the wanderers left ulthar, and were never seen again. and the housholders were troubled when they noticed that in all the village there was not a cat to be found ... the burgomaster, swore that the dark folk had taken the cats away in revenge for the killing of mene's kitten ... the lean notary, declared that the old cotter and his wife were more likely persons to suspect; ... so ulthar went to sleep in vain anger; and when the people awakened at dawn--behold! every cat was back ...

'' there was subsequently much talk among the burgesses of ulthar ... they talked of the old cotter and his wife, of the caravan of dark wanderers, of small menes and his kittten, of the prayer of menes and of the sky during that prayer, of the doings of the cats on the night the caravan left, and of what was later found in the cottage under the dark trees in the repellent yard. and in the end the burgesses passed that remarkable law ... that in ulthar no man may kill a cat.''

h.p.lovecraft, the cats of ulthar.


i: house-cats at apotropaios.
ii: a cat named annie at zefrank.
iii: toy cadaver at bj winslow.
iv: cat eats man at messybeast.