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We moved together very slowly toward the house, trying to understand its ugliness and ruin and shame.
Shirley Jackson
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Shirley Jackson
Age: 48 †
Born: 1916
Born: December 14
Died: 1965
Died: September 8
Author
Journalist
Non-Fiction Writer
Novelist
Writer
San Francisco County
California
Shirley Hardie Jackson
Slowly
Shame
Moved
Toward
Understand
House
Ugliness
Together
Ruin
Trying
Ruins
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Life Among the Savages is a disrespectful memoir of my children.
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February, when the days of winter seem endless and no amount of wistful recollecting can bring back any air of summer.
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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.
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Now, I have nothing against the public school system as it is presently organized, once you allow the humor of its basic assumption about how it is possible to teach things to children.
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I shall weave a suit of leaves. At once. With acorns for buttons.
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I very much dislike writing about myself or my work, and when pressed for autobiographical material can only give a bare chronological outline which contains no pertinent facts.
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It is only with the eyes open that a corporeal form returns, and assembles itself firmly around the hard core of sight.
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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.
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in all the world there is not someone who does not believe something.
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I can't help it when people are frightened, says Merricat. I always want to frighten them more.
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Materializations are often best produced in rooms where there are books. I cannot think of any time when materialization was in any way hampered by the presence of books.
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All I could think of when I got a look at the place from the outside was what fun it would be to stand out there and watch it burn down.
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Oh Constance, we are so happy.
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On the moon we have everything. Lettuce, and pumpkin pie and Amanita phalloides. We have cat-furred plants and horses dancing with their wings. All the locks are solid and tight, and there are no ghosts.
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I have always loved to use fear, to take it and comprehend it and make it work and consolidate a situation where I was afraid and take it whole and work from there.
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It watches, he added suddenly. The house. It watches every move you make.
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We were going to the long field which today looked like an ocean, although I had never seen an ocean the grass was moving in the breeze and the cloud shadows passed back and forth and the trees in the distance moved.
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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.
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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.
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I would have to find something else to bury here and I wished it could be Charles.
Shirley Jackson
