Sometimes—(Danny with his arm in a cast)—he does things he's sorry for later.

There was a little boy to terrorize, a man and his woman to set one against the other, and if it played its cards right they could end up flitting through the overlook's halls like insubstantial shades in a Shirley Jackson novel, whatever walked in hill house walked alone, but you won't be alone in the overlook, oh no, there would be plenty of company.

I know something now that I didn't before-the worst stories are the ones you've heard your whole life. Those are the real nightmares.

He went into the bathroom, set his Coleman lamp on the sink so that it illuminated the mirror, and for the next fifteen minutes he practiced smiling. He was getting very good at it.

You didn't have to deal with the monster under the bed or lurking in the corner if you never actually turned on the bedroom lights, that was the thing.

Y quizá todos fuésemos ratones de circo, yendo de aquí para allá, apenas conscientes de que Dios y sus guardianes divinos nos miraban en nuestras casas de cartón a través de ventanas de vidrio esmerilado

Pienso en John diciendo que Wharton había matado a las gemelas Detterick valiéndose del amor que había entre ellas, que pasaba lo mismo todos los días, en todas partes del mundo. Si ocurre así es porque Dios permite que ocurra, y cuando le decimos "no te entiendo", Él responde "no me importa".

How could such things as these be considered human, whatever they might once have been?

Beingi n the town is prosaic, sensuous, alcoholic. And in the dark, the town is yours and you are the town’s andtogether you sleep like the dead, like the very stones in your north field. There is no life here but the slow death of days, and so when the evil falls on the town, its coming seems almost preordained, sweet and morphic. It is almost as though the town knows the evil was coming and the shape it would take.