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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.
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
Horses
Horse
Plants
Furred
Moon
Solid
Lettuce
Everything
Ghost
Pumpkin
Cat
Pie
Wings
Ghosts
Locks
Plant
Tight
Dancing
More quotes by Shirley Jackson
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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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 watches, he added suddenly. The house. It watches every move you make.
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Wear your boots if you wander today
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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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Hill House, she thought, You're as hard to get into as heaven.
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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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The idea of a series of items, following one another docilely, forms the only possible reasonable approach to life if you have to live it with a home and a husband and children, none of whom would dream of following one another docilely.
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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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Fear, the doctor said, is the relinquishment of logic, the willing relinquishing of reasonable patterns. We yield to it or we fight it, but we cannot meet it halfway.
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I would have to find something else to bury here and I wished it could be Charles.
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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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I shall weave a suit of leaves. At once. With acorns for buttons.
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I am like a small creature swallowed whole by a monster, she thought, and the monster feels my tiny little movements inside.
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Oh Constance, we are so happy.
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We moved together very slowly toward the house, trying to understand its ugliness and ruin and shame.
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I delight in what I fear.
Shirley Jackson
in all the world there is not someone who does not believe something.
Shirley Jackson
I suppose, I hoped, by setting a particularly brutal ancient rite in the present and in my own village to shock the story's readers with a graphic dramatization of the pointless violence and general inhumanity in their own lives.
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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.
Shirley Jackson