“Here, in the garden at night, it is another world, strange and yet friendly and familiar, never frightening. There is such quietness, such sweetness, such refreshment. Close your eyes. Breathe in again, smell everything mingled together, flowers and earth and… — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
“Here, in the garden at night, it is another world, strange and yet friendly and familiar, never frightening. There is such quietness, such sweetness,… — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
I read a lot of ghost stories because I was writing a ghost story. I didn't think at all I was writing a horror… — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
A man may be accused of cowardice for fleeing away from all manner of physical dangers but when things supernatural, insubstantial and inexplicable threaten… — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
“You try so hard to shield me, and protect me, and really, there is no need, you try so hard to hide what you… — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
Books help to form us. If you cut me open, you will find volume after volume, page after page, the contents of every one… — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
Ghost stories ... tell us about things that lie hidden within all of us, and which lurk outside all around us. — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
“I was frightened of myself, I seemed to have no control over my thoughts and feelings, it was like a sort of madness...” — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
“I go downstairs and the books blink at me from the shelves. Or stare. In a trick of the light, a row of them… — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
“They told of dripping stone walls in uninhabited castles and of ivy-clad monastery ruins by moonlight, of locked inner rooms and secret dungeons, dank… — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
I had not yet learned that we make our own destiny, it springs from within us. It is not the outward events but what… — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
“I had always known in my heart that the experience would never leave me, that it was now woven into my very fibers, an… — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
I have sat here at my desk, day after day, night after night, a blank sheet of paper before me, unable to lift my… — Susan Hill Copy Share Image
