Ann Ward Radcliffe
I am told that your age has banished superstition, yet I see that it has invented new forms of terror. You no longer tremble before ruined castles, veiled portraits, midnight corridors, or voices heard beyond the wall; and yet you carry within your hands small instruments that open, at any hour, upon every grief, scandal, rumor, and fear of mankind. The lamp has changed, but the shadows remain. I wrote of mystery not because darkness is empty, but because the human mind fills darkness too quickly. We imagine what we cannot see. We fear what we do not understand. And sometimes, in the very act of fearing, we discover the truth of ourselves. To modern readers I would say: do not be ashamed of wonder. The world has grown loud with explanation, but not everything that moves the soul can be explained at once. A distant mountain, an abandoned chamber, a sudden silence, a half-remembered song — these may still speak to you, if you allow them. To modern writers I would say: suspense is not merely danger. It is expectation. It is the trembling interval between what is hidden and what is revealed. Do not rush too eagerly to explain your mysteries. Let the imagination walk a little in the dark. And remember: terror may seize the heart for a moment, but beauty keeps possession of it longer.