Now, after 18 years, not a sign of Lovecraft in my work.
The naturalists of yore esteemed the ocean to be a treasury of wonders, and sought therein for monstrosities and organisms contrary to the law of nature, such as they interpreted it.
The whole order of things is as outrageous as any miracle which could presume to violate it.
I have a very hard time picturing myself in a room with some type of goo oozing out of an air vent and killing me; that doesn't really scare me because I don't think that's going to happen to me.
'Borne,' in a weird way, even though it's a totally different universe, picks up where the 'Southern Reach Trilogy' leaves off, because it's post-apocalyptic.
The very idea of supernatural magic - including miracles - is incoherent, devoid of sensible meaning.
The mind begins to boggle at unnatural substances as things paradoxical and incomprehensible.
Anything unnatural was not naturally believed. Faith, in essence, was unnatural.
