/ art / lover /

Jean-Honoré Fragonard, Love the Sentinel (detail)

am i walking toward something i should be running away from?

fear is the relinquishment of logic, the willing relinquishing of reasonable patterns. we yield to it or we fight it, but we cannot meet it halfway.

no one would ever find me there.

all i could think of when i got a look at the place from the outside was what fun it would be to stand out there and watch it burn down.

i have told lies and made a fool of myself.

why do people want to talk to each other? i mean, what are the things people always want to find out about other people?

don’t let me know too surely what he thinks of me. 

people are always so anxious to get things out into the open where they can put a name to them, even a meaningless name, so long as it has something of a scientific ring.

if any of you has trouble sleeping, i will read aloud to you.

i clear breakfast at ten o'clock. i set on lunch at one. dinner i set on at six. it’s ten o'clock.

how do you gentlemen like living in a haunted house?

it gives me an excuse to have a drink in the middle of the night.

nothing upsets me more than being hungry; i snarl and snap and burst into tears.

i am a kind of stray cat, aren’t i?

i do not understand words and will not accept them in trade for my feelings.

i think we are only afraid of ourselves.

she loves beautiful things and i would go with her to find them.

we could go anywhere we pleased, to the edge of the world if we liked, and come back when we wanted to.

i never expected to find you all so nervous.

no one can catch me now; they don’t even know which way i’m going.

it is really unbelievably difficult to get accurate information about a haunted house.

it’s quite a hazard, quite a hazard indeed, people knocking you down.

losing my temper will not help.

i wonder how long she is going to stay?

and how long will you be able to stay?

all i want is to be cherished, and here i am talking gibberish with a selfish man.

first she stole her sister’s lover, and then she tried to steal her sister’s dishes.

i swear i saw bats in the woodwork.

people like answering questions about themselves, what an odd pleasure it is.

people have to live and die somewhere, after all.

what will you give me to remember you by?

you are not going to catch me so cheaply.