TV series: The ghosts of hill house (The Haunting of Hill House)

Let your imagination take you over. This is the first step. Imagine the worst scenario. Believe that it happened. And act upon it.

You know, some religions forbid to bury in the cemetery of suicides. It's... it's monstrous. If you committed a crime. And in fact you are so hurt, so hurt.

We fought with love. She taught me that. It is necessary to quarrel with love. When you're at the same time, even when you quarrel. During an argument you are already forgiven. No fear, no anxiety. You're safe. I really hope that someday you will experience something similar. That's fine.

Some things can not say. You either survive them or not. But you don't talk about them.

- The journey ends...
- Meeting of the lovers.

Don't blame the girl for being alone. There is nothing sadder than a cold bed.

Now everything is clearer. All was not as it should. I'm talking about time. I always thought that time is like a line, that each moment is like dominoes that fall one after another and so on. I thought that the days fall one after another in a long line between the beginning and the end. But I was wrong, it is not so. Every moment drips like rain or snow. Or confetti.

Fear and guilt is a sister.

Fear is the absence of logic, the voluntary renunciation of rational reality. We give him or fight with him. But compromise can not be here.

- Do you drink coffee?
- Yes, I... You... You invite me for a coffee?
But... it's... It's for medical history in Your business.
- Oh! Sorry...
- No, You...
- I do not understand.
- I wanted to invite You to the café at the end of the reception.

Even if a good man, even if he to you of roads, that does not mean that it will not cause pain.

It is impossible to stop because of the monotony.

Because I don't want to tell them how much I hate aunt Nell, who, no matter how her know that suicides do with the family. People her know. She did it anyway.

... when we die, we become history. And every time someone tells the story, we like the neighborhood. With them. In the end we all become stories.