by H. P. Lovecraft text copied from wikisource You needn't think I'm crazy, Eliot—plenty of others have queerer prejudices than this. Why don't you laugh at Oliver's grandfather, who won't ride in a motor? If I don't like that damned subway, it's my own business; and we got here more quickly anyhow in the taxi. We'd have had to walk up the hill from Park Street if we'd taken the car. I'm not sure that I could find it again myself—not that I'd ever try, even in broad daylight!