Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers

Jorge Luis Borges, “After a While” (translated by Veronica A. Shofstall)

I loved her the way we learn to love the people by our side, because they are our only companions.

Andrew S. Greer

(A translation of a translation, it may not be perfect.)