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234 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1943
Men are not born of the whim or will of the gods, on the contrary, gods owe their existence to the belief of men. Should this belief wither, the gods will die.
The first phantom to rise up before me was that common to all sequestered lives: ennui.
Day in, day out it rained, and at certain times the downpour would take on the character of a raging deluge.
There was no counting upon the garden and its repulsive mysteries to distract myself from the dismal and silent hours I spent in the house. The leafless branches of the trees clashed together; the rain-lashed earth erupted into blisters and pustules that broke and dissolved into mud; during the brief spells of respite, when the branches and the twigs as it were drew breath, one could hear the surly, lapping sound of the waters of the pond.