Oh Constance, We Are So

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.

On The Moon We Wore Feathers In Our Hair, And Rubies On Our Hands. On The Moon We Had Gold Spoons.

The First Book Is The Book You Have To Write To Get Back At Your Parents; The Book You Always Had In You. Once You Get That Out Of Your Way, You Can Start Writing Books.

It Was A House Without Kindness, Never Meant To Be Lived In, Not A Fit Place For People Or For Love Or For Hope. Exorcism Cannot Alter The Countenance Of A House ; Hill House Would Stay As It Was Until It Was Destroyed.

God! Whose Hand Was I Holding?