Everybody dies, don't they?

Everybody come back, isn't that same?

You tried to get into the locked drawer today, didn't you?

How do the dead comeback, mother?

What's the secrets of dead comeback?

The Call of Cthulhu by H.B. Lovecraft.

Epigraph

Of such great powers or beings, there may be conceivably a survival,

a survival of a hugely remote period, when consciousness was manifested, perhaps,

in shapes and forms long since withdrawn before the tide of advancing humanity, forms of which

poetry and legend alone have caught a flying memory, and called him gods, monsters,

mythical beings of all sorts and kinds,

Algin Blackwood,

the horror in the clay.

The most merciful thing in the world, I think,

is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.

We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity,

and it was not meant that we should voyage far.

The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little,

but someday the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality and of our frightful

position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark

age.

...