There was not one straight floor from the foundation to the roof; the ceilings were so fantastically clouded by smoke and dust, that old women might have told fortunes in them better than in grouts of tea . . .
~
Little Dorrit
by
Charles Dickens
Melancholy streets, in a penitential garb of soot, steeped the souls of the people who were condemned to look at them out of windows, in dire despondency.
~
Little Dorrit
by
Charles Dickens
Miss Mills replied, on general principles, that the Cottage of content was better than the Palace of cold splendour, and that where love was, all was.
~
David Copperfield
by
Charles Dickens
"Do you know," Peter asked "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories."
~
Peter Pan
by
James M. Barrie
"Just as an octopus may have his den in some ocean cave, and come floating out a silent image of horror to attack a swimmer, so I picture such a spirit lurking in the dark of the house which he curses by his presence, and ready to float out upon all whom he can injure."
~
The Land of Mist
by
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
There are houses whose souls have passed into the limbo of Time, leaving their bodies in the limbo of London.
~
The Forsyte Saga
by
John Galsworthy
It was the same dark place as ever: every room dismal and silent as it was wont to be, and every ghostly article of furniture in its customary place. The iron heart of the grim old clock, undistributed by all the noise without, still beat heavily within its dusty case; the tottering presses slunk from the sight, as usual, in their melancholy corners; the echoes of footsteps returned the same dreary sound; the long-legged spider paused in his nimble run, and, scared by the sight of men in that his dull domain, hung motionless on the wall, counterfeiting death until they should have passed him by.
~
Nicholas Nickleby
by
Charles Dickens
"The horrid mystery hanging over us in this house gets into my head like liquor, and makes me wild."
~
The Moonstone
by
Wilkie Collins
An empty house is like a stray dog or a body from which life has departed.
~
The Way of All Flesh
by
Samuel Butler
He held up the lantern, and his hand shook until the circles of light flickered and wavered all round us. Miss Morstan seized my wrist, and we all stood with thumping hearts, straining our ears. From the great black house there sounded through the silent night the saddest and most pitiful of sounds--the shrill, broken whimpering of a frightened woman.
~
The Sign of The Four
by
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle