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Life Among the Savages is a disrespectful memoir of my children.
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
Disrespectful
Memoir
Savages
Among
Children
Life
More quotes by Shirley Jackson
I shall weave a suit of leaves. At once. With acorns for buttons.
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in all the world there is not someone who does not believe something.
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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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I can't help it when people are frightened, says Merricat. I always want to frighten them more.
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Hill House, she thought, You're as hard to get into as heaven.
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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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Oh Constance, we are so happy.
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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 delight in what I fear.
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Wear your boots if you wander today
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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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The number of people who expected Mrs. Hutchinson to win a Bendix washer would amaze you.
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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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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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For plain and fancy worrying, give me a new mother every time.
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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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All cat stories start with this statement: My mother, who was the first cat, told me this...
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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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You will be wondering about that sugar bowl, I imagine, is it still in use? You are wondering, has it been cleaned? You may very well ask, was it thoroughly washed?
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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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