That this world is a place of horror must affect every serious artist and thinker, darkening his reflection, ruining his system, sometimes actually driving him mad. Any seriousness avoids this fact at its peril, and the great ones who have seemed to neglect it have only done so in appearance.

You understand nothing of—the horror—no wonder you can't write real books—you don't see—the horror—

Oh my life is so awful, it's just so awful to be me, you don't know what it's like waking every morning and finding the whole horror of being yourself still there.

She lived in private with her own horror.

I just hope — if he does come — it won't be some sort of horror show.

Willy seemed like an inhabitant of some other dimension who could only tenuously communicate with the ordinary world. This would have troubled her less if she had not imagined his other dimension as a place of horror.

He had for many years now been spared the demons, though he was constantly aware of their continued presence. He could hear them, as it were, moving behind the wall. They belonged to him and would doubtless go with him to the grave. His mind too, like David's, ran irresistibly to the horror.

The dread enactment of the dream had turned into a waking horror.

Arnold's 'joke' was too obscenely good not to be taken as a portent: it was the visible part of some huge invisible horror.