For Plain And Fancy Worrying, Give Me

I Shall Weave A Suit Of Leaves. At Once. With Acorns For Buttons.

She Walked Quickly Around Her One-room Apartment. After More Than Four Years In This One Home She Knew All Its Possibilities, How It Could Put On A Sham Appearance Of Warmth And Welcome When She Needed A Place To Hide In, How It Stood Over Her In The Night When She Woke Suddenly, How It Could Relax Itself Into A Disagreeable Unmade, Badly-put-together State, Mornings Like This, Anxious To Drive Her Out And Go Back To Sleep.

Hill House, She Thought, You're As Hard To Get Into As Heaven.

A Pretty Sight, A Lady With A Book.

Am I Walking Toward Something I Should Be Running Away From?