But I Am A Just

I Roused Myself From The Book Which I Was Dreaming Over Rather Than Reading, And Left My Chambers To Meet The Cool Night Air In The Suburbs.

I Have Always Held The Old-fashioned Opinion That The Primary Object Of Work Of Fiction Should Be To Tell A Story.

I Have Heard, As Everybody Else Has, Of A Spirit's Haunting A House ; But I Have Had My Own Personal Experience Of A House's Haunting A Spirit.

I Say What Other People Only Think, And When All The Rest Of The World Is In A Conspiracy To Accept The Mask For The True Face, Mine Is The Rash Hand That Tears Off The Plump Pasteboard And Shows The Bare Bones Beneath.

The Horrid Mystery Hanging Over Us In This House Gets Into My Head Like Liquor, And Makes Me Wild.