Poor Strangers, They Have So Much To

Oh Constance, We Are So Happy.

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.

I Very Much Dislike Writing About Myself Or My Work, And When Pressed For Autobiographical Material Can Only Give A Bare Chronological Outline Which Contains No Pertinent Facts.

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?

I'm Going To Put Death In All Their Food And Watch Them Die.