The Empty House: And Other Ghost Stories

by Algernon Blackwood

surrounding herself with mental buffers—saying ordinary things to prevent herself thinking of extra-ordinary things.

after a certain point Nature applies her own anæsthetic, and a merciful condition of numbness supervenes.

I at once realised with vividness what a difference there is between making plans in the daytime and carrying them out in the dark. One's common-sense—at least in matters of this sort—is reduced to a minimum, and imagination with all her attendant sprites usurps the place of judgment. Two and two no longer make four—they make a mystery, and the mystery loses no time in growing into a menace.

I sought by every means in my power to gather up all the shreds of my courage, so that they might together make a decent rope that would stand the strain when it came.

the Good was helping, even when the Evil was most determined to destroy.