The King in Yellow: Original 1895 Illustrated Edition

by Robert W. Chambers

“Ne raillons pas les fous; leur folie dure plus longtemps que la nôtre.... Voila toute la différence.”

The dreams of which he could not retain even the least definite outline continued, and he said that at times the sense of breathless expectancy was suffocating.

We had been speaking for some time in a dull monotonous strain before I realized that we were discussing The King in Yellow. Oh the sin of writing such words,—words which are clear as crystal, limpid and musical as bubbling springs, words which sparkle and glow like the poisoned diamonds of the Medicis! Oh the wickedness, the hopeless damnation of a soul who could fascinate and paralyze human creatures with such words,—words understood by the ignorant and wise alike, words which are more precious than jewels, more soothing than music, more awful than death!

I came to the bridge which few may pass. “Pass!” cried the keeper, but I laughed, saying, “There is time;” and he smiled and shut the gates. To the bridge which few may pass came young and old. All were refused. Idly I stood and counted them, until, wearied of their noise and lamentations, I came again to the bridge which few may pass. Those in the throng about the gates shrieked out, “He comes too late!” But I laughed, saying, “There is time.” “Pass!” cried the keeper as I entered; then smiled and shut the gates.