It was as if these stark, nightmare spires marked the pylons of a frightful gateway into forbidden spheres of dream, and complex gulfs of remote time, space, and ultra dimensionality. I could not help feeling that they were evil things - mountains of madness whose farther slopes looked out over some accursed ultimate abyss. That seething, half-luminous cloud background held ineffable suggestions of a vague, ethereal beyondness far more than terrestrially spatial, and gave appalling reminders of the utter re-moteness, separateness, desolation, and aeon-long death of this untrodden and unfathomed austral world.

— At the Mountains of Madness by H.P. Lovecraft, H. P. Lovecraft