Get Back Challenge: Post-a-thon
394
We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.
395
The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little;
396
but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.
397
Theosophists have guessed at the awesome grandeur of the cosmic cycle wherein our world and human race form transient incidents.
398
They have hinted at strange survivals in terms which would freeze the blood if not masked by a bland optimism.
399
But it is not from them that there came the single glimpse of forbidden aeons which chills me when I think of it and maddens me when I dream of it.
400
That glimpse, like all dread glimpses of truth, flashed out from an accidental piecing together of separated things—in this case an old newspaper item and the notes of a dead professor.
401
I hope that no one else will accomplish this piecing out; certainly, if I live, I shall never knowingly supply a link in so hideous a chain.
402
I think that the professor, too, intended to keep silent regarding the part he knew, and that he would have destroyed his notes had not sudden death seized him.
403
My knowledge of the thing began in the winter of 1926–27 with the death of my grand-uncle George Gammell Angell, Professor Emeritus of Semitic Languages in Brown University, Providence, Rhode Island.


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