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N'gai, n'gha'ghaa, bugg-shoggog, y'hah Yog-Sothoth, Yog-Sothoth.
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~ Henry Armitage's translation of the Library of Miskatonic University's Olaus Wormius Latin version, 17th century Spanish printing , " The Dunwich Horror" They wait patient and potent, for here shall They reign again. After summer is winter, after winter summer. Man rules now where They ruled once They shall soon rule where man rules now. Yog-Sothoth is the key to the gate, whereby the spheres meet. Their hand is at your throats, yet ye see Them not and Their habitation is even one with your guarded threshold.
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Iä! Shub-Niggurath! As a foulness shall ye know Them. Kadath in the cold waste hath known Them, and what man knows Kadath? The ice desert of the South and the sunken isles of Ocean hold stones whereon Their seal is engraver, but who hath seen the deep frozen city or the sealed tower long garlanded with seaweed and barnacles? Great Cthulhu is Their cousin, yet can he spy Them only dimly. They bend the forest and crush the city, yet may not forest or city behold the hand that smites. The wind gibbers with Their voices, and the earth mutters with Their consciousness. They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where the Words have been spoken and the Rites howled through at their Seasons. By Their smell can men sometimes know Them near, but of Their semblance can no man know, saving only in the features of those They have begotten on mankind and of those are there many sorts, differing in likeness from man's truest eidolon to that shape without sight or substance which is Them. He knows where They had trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Not in the spaces we know, but between them, they walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen. The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Nor is it to be thought that man is either the oldest or the last of earth's masters, or that the common bulk of life and substance walks alone. ~ Arkham's Olaus Wormius Low Latin version , " The Festival" Great holes are digged where earth's pores ought to suffice, and things have learnt to walk that ought to crawl. For it is of old rumour that the soul of the devil-bought hastes not from his charnel clay, but fats and instructs the very worm that gnaws till out of corruption horrid life springs, and the dull scavengers of earth wax crafty to vex it and swell monstrous to plague it. Wisely did Ibn Schacabao say, that happy is the tomb where no wizard hath lain, and happy the town at night whose wizards are all ashes. Cursed the ground where dead thoughts live new and oddly bodied, and evil the mind that is held by no head. The nethermost caverns are not for the fathoming of eyes that see for their marvels are strange and terrific. ~ " The Nameless City", " The Call of Cthulhu" And with strange aeons even death may die.