It watches," he added suddenly. "The house. It watches every move you make.

[L]et my reader who is puzzled by my awkward explanations close his eyes for no more than two minutes, and see if he does not find himself suddenly not a compact human being at all, but only a consciousness on a sea of sound and touch . . .

It has long been my belief that in times of great stress, such as a 4-day vacation, the thin veneer of family wears off almost at once, and we are revealed in our true personalities.

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.

Wear your boots if you wander today

I'm going to put death in all their food and watch them die.

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.