"This world, such as it is, is not tolerable. Therefore I need the moon, or happiness, or immortality, I need something which is perhaps demented, but which is not of this world."

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I stood on the street, staring up at the most normal-looking house in the world. My house. I'd lived there my entire life. It was home. It was safe. It was haunted. The only other explanation was that I was demented. I couldn't say which I was rooting for.

— D. J. MacHale