Quotes from Mark Z. Danielewski

And if one day you find yourself passing by that house, don't stop, don't slow down, just keep going. There's nothing there. Beware.

with me losing myself in such a dream, over and over again too . . .

Perhaps when I'm finished I'll remember what I'd hoped to say in the first place.

Something's really off. I'm off. I can't do a fucking thing.

All I hope for is a moment of rational thought and one shot at action before I'm lost to a great saddening madness,...

The inner labyrinth of the psyche . . .

Looking everywhere, even though there's absolutely nothing, nothing anywhere.

Something was beginning to make me feel panicky and bad again. Maybe it was to have been that lost, to lose sense, even a little bit . . .

I hope it doesn't matter. I have a terrifying feeling that it does.

and I want something else. I'm not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it's drenched in sunlight and it's weightless and I know it's not cheap. Probably not even real.

Unfortunately, denial also means ignoring the possibility of peril.

In both cases, unfulfilled love results in the total negation of Echo's body and the near negation of her voice.

Outside a thunderstorm begins to crack and spit rain at the windows. Lightning builds shadows. A wind howls like the wounded, filling everyone with cold, bone weary dread.

God's a house. Which is not to say that our house is God's house or even a house of God. What I mean to say is that our house is God.

I also think it's somewhat of a relief not to hear the true story. I mean you look at the horror . . . and you have to take a deep breath and ask yourself, do I really want to know what happened there? In my experience, most people don't. They usually look away.

I no longer wake up tired. I wake up tired and afraid.

In fact all I had to hold onto at that moment . . . was her face, that wry smile, Natasha's, seen but unknown, found in a restaurant, lost on a street corner . . .

Quite a few people have slept and suffered within those walls.

eyes wild with a cascade of internal reckonings, lips acting out some unintelligible discourse . . .

I know what it means to go mad. I'll die before I go there. But first I have to find out if that's where I'm really heading.

Unfortunately nothing happened with the girls. They just ran off giggling into the night. No digits, no dates, not even their names, leaving me feeling dumb and sad, a bit like a broken thermos- fine on the outside, but on the inside nothing but busted glass.

If the house were indeed the product of psychological agonies, it would have to be the collective product of psychological agonies.

And my heart started hurting because I couldn't share her happiness.

I've lost this sentence, I can't even finish it, don't know how—