"Howard Phillips Lovecraft, heaven knows, had a talent for writing which was of no mean proportion: only what he did with this talent was a shame, and a caution and an eldritch horror. If he'd only gotten the hell out of his aunties' attic and obtained a job with the federal writer's project of the WPA, he could have turned out guidebooks that would have been classics and joys to read forever. Only he stayed up there muffled up to the tip of his long gaunt New England chin against the cold which lay more in his heart than in his thermometer, living on 19 cents worth of beans a day, rewriting (for pennies) the crappy manuscripts of writers whose complete illiteracy would have been a boon to all mankind, ah, but life is a boon, and producing ghastly, grisly, ghoulish, and horrifying works of his own as well — of man-eating things which foraged in graveyards, of human/beastie crosses which grew beastlier and beastlier as they grew older, of gibbering Shoggoths and Elder beings which smelt real bad and were always trying to break through thresholds and take over; rugous, squamous, amorphous nasties abbetted by thin, gaunt New England eccentrics who dwelt in attics and who were eventually never seen or heard from again. Serve them damn well right, I say. In short, Howard was a twitch, boys and girls, and that's all there is to it."
— Rudimentary Peni, "Twitch"
There was a young writer from Providence
Who brilliantly coined his own evidence
Like weird-sounding names
(which spawned role-playing games)
And dark tomes about alien revenants
"The proper pronunciation of 'Cthulhu' is 'Bob'"
— The Geek BBook
"The dog is a peasant and the cat is a gentleman".
— Lovecraft on cats.
The Mad Arab, now long dead,
Known as Abdul Al-hazred
Writes of things best left unknown;
Knowledge we claim for our own!
If we've rightly done our sums
'Tis not long 'til doomsday comes!
Soon the gods will make the switch
To a world that's more eldritch!
— From a filk of Gilbert and Sullivan's "Climbing over Rocky Mountain" by Adam Cuerden
The end of everything. I wrote stories to prepare mankind for this. But no, let's not publish Howard! No, why do that? How could the world possibly end? We're too clever and handsome to let the vast, impossible horror of the universe destroy us! I knew this day would come. Mongrels or extra-dimensional alien gods, either way, it would come.
— Lovecraft, Atomic Robo