Shirley Jackson

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality;

Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within

silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

Our house was a castle, turreted and open to the sky.

“We eat the year away. We eat the spring and the summer and the fall. We wait for something to grow and then we eat it.”

“I wonder if Cousin Mary knows how I get even with people who don’t like me?

Constance stirred, and the leaves rustled. “The way you did before?” she asked.

It had never been spoken of between us, not once in six years.

“Yes,” I said after a minute, “the way I did before.”

Our house was a castle, turreted and open to the sky.

I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the deathcup mushroom.

but I liked fairy tales and books of history