We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson 📚

All the Blackwood women had taken the food that came from the ground and preserved it, and the deeply colored rows of jellies and pickles and bottled vegetables and fruit, maroon and amber and dark rich green, stood side by side in our cellar and would stand there forever, a poem by the Blackwood women.

“If I am spared,” he always said to Constance, “I will write the book myself. If not, see that my notes are entrusted to some worthy cynic who will not be too concerned with the truth.”

“We eat the year away. We eat the spring and the summer and the fall. We wait for something to grow and then we eat it.”

almost as though in the house of her life there had always been a room kept for Cousin Charles.

that we had somehow lost ourselves and come back through the wrong gap in time, or the wrong door, or the wrong fairy tale.

and laughed, with the tears running down our cheeks and echoes of our laughter going up the ruined stairway to the sky.