EX OBLIVIONE PDF

In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods. Once when the wind was soft and scented I heard the south calling, and sailed endlessly and languorously under strange stars. Once when the gentle rain fell I glided in a barge down a sunless stream under the earth till I reached another world of purple twilight, iridescent arbours, and undying roses. And once I walked through a golden valley that led to shadowy groves and ruins, and ended in a mighty wall green with antique vines, and pierced by a little gate of bronze. Many times I walked through that valley, and longer and longer would I pause in the spectral half-light where the giant trees squirmed and twisted grotesquely, and the grey ground stretched damply from trunk to trunk, sometimes disclosing the mould-stained stones of buried temples. And always the goal of my fancies was the mighty vine-grown wall with the little gate of bronze therein.

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Return to Book Page. Preview — Ex Oblivione by H. Ex Oblivione Dream Cycle by H. Lovecraft, written in late or early and first published in The United Amateur in March , under the pseudonym Ward Phillips.

It is written in first person and tells of the dreams of a presumably dying man. In his dreams, the man is walking through a valley and encounters a vine-covered wall "Ex Oblivione" is a prose poem by American horror fiction writer H.

In his dreams, the man is walking through a valley and encounters a vine-covered wall with a locked bronze gate therein. He longs to know what lies beyond the gate. Get A Copy. Kindle Edition , 6 pages. Published first published March More Details Original Title. Other Editions Friend Reviews.

To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. To ask other readers questions about Ex Oblivione , please sign up. Lists with This Book. Community Reviews. Showing Average rating 3. Rating details. More filters. Sort order. Start your review of Ex Oblivione. Feb 20, Brian Yahn rated it liked it. Lovecraft strikes again with his silky-smooth dream-like prose.

He writes about ideas that, at the time, were totally foreign and thought provoking, but now are widely accepted and old news. Evidence of his genius? I think. In Ex Oblivione, the way the prose feels otherworldly and somehow connected to the themes of the story--afterlife and dreams--is pretty cool. And even though it stands out like the Call of Cthulhu, and even though you can look back and see why people before were wild about him, Lovecraft strikes again with his silky-smooth dream-like prose.

And even though it stands out like the Call of Cthulhu, and even though you can look back and see why people before were wild about him, the prose seems out of place while the ideas seem commonplace in modern literature.

So there's not a whole lot to love about Lovecraft. View 1 comment. Jun 16, Peter rated it really liked it Shelves: horror. A first person narrator intends to stay forever in his dreams to enter the golden valley of happiness. He takes drugs for this reason.

One day the latch is open and he can pass. Escapism, suicide solution, world weariness Lovecraft comes up with a fine poem turned story here. Jul 31, Leah Craig rated it really liked it. It is beautiful. It is written in the first person and told by someone who found beauty and peace in dreams. While roaming through dream lands the narrator finds a papyrus that tells about a locked gate that can be unlocked using a special drug. Beyond the gate he finds two truths. I've never read anything by H.

The story is a single-page short story that is very beautifully written. Hopefully, this won't be my last Lovecraft. I totally recommend this to everyone. Feb 20, Moataz Ibrahim rated it really liked it. The transition between the waking world and the wisdom of dreams, and reading the text after reading similar texts about the dreams realm make me wonder, why do I read about the worlds of dream?

Is it a trigger from my subconscious to seek the wisdom of texts for consultation about the dilemmas of my restless sleep? Am I trying to find a way to remember the composure of my dreams? Am I supposed to know what I dream of? Will I, if I remember, be capable of comprehending, or is it a language that The transition between the waking world and the wisdom of dreams, and reading the text after reading similar texts about the dreams realm make me wonder, why do I read about the worlds of dream?

Will I, if I remember, be capable of comprehending, or is it a language that only my subconscious, with all its wisdom, can master? I don't, sincerely, know. All I know is, I enjoyed this short story. May 14, K. Anna Kraft rated it liked it. I have arranged my thoughts on this short story into a haiku: "Death's gentlest greeting, Beguiling in sleep's soft realm, Free from that without.

Jul 04, Austin Wright rated it it was amazing. COMPLETE TEXT: When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water that torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victims body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep.

In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods. Once when the wind was soft and scented I heard the south calling, and sailed endlessly and languorously under strange st COMPLETE TEXT: When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water that torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victims body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep.

Once when the wind was soft and scented I heard the south calling, and sailed endlessly and languorously under strange stars. Once when the gentle rain fell I glided in a barge down a sunless stream under the earth till I reached another world of purple twilight, iridescent arbours, and undying roses. And once I walked through a golden valley that led to shadowy groves and ruins, and ended in a mighty wall green with antique vines, and pierced by a little gate of bronze.

Many times I walked through that valley, and longer and longer would I pause in the spectral half-light where the giant trees squirmed and twisted grotesquely, and the grey ground stretched damply from trunk to trunk, sometimes disclosing the mould-stained stones of buried temples. And always the goal of my fancies was the mighty vine-grown wall with the little gate of bronze therein.

After awhile, as the days of waking became less and less bearable from their greyness and sameness, I would often drift in opiate peace through the valley and the shadowy groves, and wonder how I might seize them for my eternal dwelling-place, so that I need no more crawl back to a dull world stript of interest and new colours.

And as I looked upon the little gate in the mighty wall, I felt that beyond it lay a dream-country from which, once it was entered, there would be no return. So each night in sleep I strove to find the hidden latch of the gate in the ivied antique wall, though it was exceedingly well hidden.

And I would tell myself that the realm beyond the wall was not more lasting merely, but more lovely and radiant as well. Then one night in the dream-city of Zakarion I found a yellowed papyrus filled with the thoughts of dream-sages who dwelt of old in that city, and who were too wise ever to be born in the waking world.

Therein were written many things concerning the world of dream, and among them was lore of a golden valley and a sacred grove with temples, and a high wall pierced by a little bronze gate.

When I saw this lore, I knew that it touched on the scenes I had haunted, and I therefore read long in the yellowed papyrus.

Some of the dream-sages wrote gorgeously of the wonders beyond the irrepassable gate, but others told of horror and disappointment. I knew not which to believe, yet longed more and more to cross forever into the unknown land; for doubt and secrecy are the lure of lures, and no new horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the commonplace.

So when I learned of the drug which would unlock the gate and drive me through, I resolved to take it when next I awaked. Last night I swallowed the drug and floated dreamily into the golden valley and the shadowy groves; and when I came this time to the antique wall, I saw that the small gate of bronze was ajar. From beyond came a glow that weirdly lit the giant twisted trees and the tops of the buried temples, and I drifted on songfully, expectant of the glories of the land from whence I should never return.

But as the gate swung wider and the sorcery of the drug and the dream pushed me through, I knew that all sights and glories were at an end; for in that new realm was neither land nor sea, but only the white void of unpeopled and illimitable space. So, happier than I had ever dared hope to be, I dissolved again into that native infinity of crystal oblivion from which the daemon Life had called me for one brief and desolate hour.

Sep 12, Amy Other Amy rated it it was ok Shelves: reviewed , , 2-stars-just-ok , cw-self-harm , who-dreams-the-dreamer. When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water that torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victim's body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep.

In certain moods I could read that and think, "Yeah, I've been there. I'm probably being harsh.

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Ex Oblivione

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Lovecraft , written in late or early and first published in The United Amateur in March , under the pseudonym Ward Phillips. Lovecraft Encyclopedia suggests that the theme of "Ex Oblivione"—that nothingness is preferable to life—was derived from Lovecraft's reading the philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer. Lovecraft expressed similar sentiments in non-fiction work at the time, writing in In Defense of Dagon , "There is nothing better than oblivion, since in oblivion there is no wish unfulfilled. It is written in first person and tells of the dreams of a presumably dying man. In his dreams, the man is walking through a valley and encounters a vine-covered wall with a locked bronze gate therein.

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