“In one picture, the pool was half hidden by a fringe of mace- weeds, and the dead willow was leaning across it at a prone, despondent angle, as if mysteriously arrested in its fall towards the stagnant waters. Beyond, the… — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share
In his bleak mercy, Death forever strips The soul of light and memory, rendering blind Our vision, lest surmounted deeps appal, As when on… — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share Image
“We don’t know whether they’re going to eat us or elect us for their tribal deities.” — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share Image
“Things have crept in from nether space, whose incursion is forbid by the watchful gods of all proper and well-ordered lands; but there are… — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share Image
“To me, the best, if not the only function of imaginative writing, is to lead the human imagination outward, to take it into the vast external cosmos, and away from all that introversion and introspection, that morbidly exaggerated prying into one's own vitals—and the vitals of others—which Robinson Jeffers has so aptly symbolized as "incest." What we need is less… — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share
“Stern and white as a tomb, older than the memory of the dead, and built by men or devils beyond the recording of myth,… — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share Image
“In one picture, the pool was half hidden by a fringe of mace- weeds, and the dead willow was leaning across it at a prone, despondent angle, as if mysteriously arrested in its fall towards the stagnant waters. Beyond, the alders seemed to strain away from the pool, exposing their knotted roots as if in eternal effort. In the other… — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share
Not as the plants and flowers of Earth, growing peacefully beneath a simple sun, were the blossoms of the planet Lophai. Coiling and uncoiling in double dawns; tossing tumultuously under vast suns of jade green and balas-ruby orange; swaying and weltering in rich twilights, in aurora-curtained nights, they resembled fields of rooted serpents that dance eternally to an other-worldly music. — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share
Only the impossible has any real charm; the possible has been vulgarized by happening too often. — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share Image
“in the days when the world begins to bleach and shrivel, and the sun is blotched with death. Socialist and Individualist, they'll all be… — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share Image
There have been times when only a hair's-breadth has intervened betwixt myself and the seething devil-ridden world of madness; for the hideous knowledge, the… — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share Image
“The sand of the desert of Yondo is not as the sand of other deserts; for Yondo lies nearest of all to the world’s… — Clark Ashton Smith Copy Share Image
