Hill House, She Thought, You're As Hard

The Number Of People Who Expected Mrs. Hutchinson To Win A Bendix Washer Would Amaze You.

He Is Altogether Selfish, She Thought In Some Surprise, The Only Man I Have Ever Sat And Talked To Alone, And I Am Impatient; He Is Simply Not Very Interesting.

I Shall Weave A Suit Of Leaves. At Once. With Acorns For Buttons.

No Live Organism Can Continue For Long To Exist Sanely Under Conditions Of Absolute Reality; Even Larks And Katydids Are Supposed, By Some, To Dream. Hill House, Not Sane, Stood By Itself Against Its Hills, Holding Darkness Within; It Had Stood So For Eighty Years And Might Stand For Eighty More. Within, Walls Continued Upright, Bricks Met Neatly, Floors Were Firm, And Doors Were Sensibly Shut; Silence Lay Steadily Against The Wood And Stone Of Hill House, And Whatever Walked There, Walked Alone.

I Am Like A Small Creature Swallowed Whole By A Monster, She Thought, And The Monster Feels My Tiny Little Movements Inside.