"South Station Under—Washington Under—Park Street Under-Kendall—Central—Harvard—" The poor fellow was chanting the familiar stations of the Boston-Cambridge tunnel that burrowed through our peaceful native soil thousands of miles away in New England, yet to me the ritual had neither irrelevance nor home feeling. It had only horror, because I knew unerringly the monstrous, nefandous analogy that had suggested it.
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Date: 2009-09-30 04:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-30 04:53 pm (UTC)At The Mountains of Madness, Chapter 11
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