Mary Downing Hahn > Quotes

“You look back on some little decision you made and realize all the things that happened because of it, and you think to yourself "if only I'd known," but, of course, you couldn't have known.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, The Dead Man in Indian Creek

“Odd, isn’t it? You know when your birthday is, but not your death day, even though you pass the date year after year, never suspecting that some day…”
― Mary Downing Hahn, The Ghost of Crutchfield Hall

“I wished that the chains would break and the wind would sweep me up, up, up into the sky, beyond the clouds, beyond the sun and the moon, to some marvelous kingdom where no one ever changed and friends were friends for life.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Daphne's Book

“The water is DEEP AND DARK AND DANGEROUS”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Deep and Dark and Dangerous

“WHEN YOU'RE READING YOU SHOULD PRETEND YOU'RE REALLY THERE BECAUSE IT WILL MAKE THE BOOK MOR INTERESTING!”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Wait Till Helen Comes

“The rules are very strict...”
― Mary Downing Hahn, The Old Willis Place

“Time doesn't run backward, you know, and things that have been done can't be undone, no matter how hard you wish.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, The Doll in the Garden

“ here, there, and everywhere"-an opinionated riddle.”
― Mary downing hahn, The Ghost of Crutchfield Hall

“People were so fragile, so easily broken, so hard to put back together. “Mr.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Took: A Ghost Story

“All around me, the night lived its secret life.”
― Alicia Talavera

“The lake's deep...and dark...and dangerous.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Deep and Dark and Dangerous

“Sissy tilted her chair back so far I was sure she’d fall on her head any second. Not that I cared. Maybe she’d leave if she hurt herself.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Deep and Dark and Dangerous

“To everyone who enjoys ghost stories”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Deep and Dark and Dangerous

“As Corey and I followed Grandmother out of the library, we glanced at each other. Without saying a word, I knew my sister was thinking exactly what I was thinking. Rappings and tappings, footsteps, doors opening and shutting—we could do that. And more. Bringing ghosts back to Fox Hill would be like playing haunted house all summer long.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, All the Lovely Bad Ones: A Ghost Story

“I was in a temper fit to blow the lid off a kettle of boiling water. And who wouldn't be? Since sunup, I'd been doing chores. I'd milked the cow, hauled two buckets of water from the well, fed the chickens, and then fought the hens for their eggs. Now I was down on my knees, sweat-soaked and bug-bitten, yanking weeds from the vegetable patch. My hands were caked with mud, and my nose was burned as red as a strawberry.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Guest: A Changeling Tale

“Never more to find her where the bright waters flow...her smiles have vanished and her sweet songs flown”
― Mary Downing Hahn, The Girl in the Locked Room: A Ghost Story

“She was not just old—she was ancient. Bent and bony, no bigger than Selene, her flyaway white hair floated around her head like dandelions gone to seed. She’d wrapped herself in a thick knitted shawl of every imaginable color woven into complex patterns—a sun here, a moon there, stars all over, rivers and trees and birds and animals. A person could look at it all day and still find something he hadn’t noticed before.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Took: A Ghost Story

“Saying something mean and then claiming you’re not yourself doesn’t take the hurt away.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Deep and Dark and Dangerous: A Ghost Story

“Why don’t you and Ali set the table? The forks and knives and spoons are in that drawer.” She pointed to the cabinet by the sink, and Emma began counting out the utensils—four of each.
“There’s only three of us,” I said.
“You forgot Mr. Bear.” Emma sat the teddy in the extra chair and laid a fork, knife, and spoon in front of him. I laughed a little louder than I’d meant to, in relief, I guess, that Mr. Bear was joining us . . . not the ghost from Emma’s dream.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Deep and Dark and Dangerous

“Our voices sounded small in the noisy darkness. We called her name again and again. We waved our flashlights in hope that she’d see their bobbing light. We were hoarse from calling. And desperate when she didn’t answer. The faint trail gave out, and we began circling back to the house without realizing it until we saw the lights in the windows. “We need to call the police,” Dad said. “We don’t know the land the way they do. We’ll get lost ourselves if we keep going.” Wordlessly, we made our way home. Mom was on the front porch, shivering in her warmest down coat. “You didn’t find her?” “No.” Dad stopped to hug her. Mom clung to him. They stood there whispering to each other, as if they’d forgotten about me. I waited, shifting my weight from one frozen foot to the other, afraid Bloody Bones might be watching us from the trees. Not that I believed he actually existed, not in my world, the real world, the five-senses world. But with the wind blowing and the moon sailing in and out of clouds like a ghost racing across the sky, I could almost believe I’d crossed a border into another world, where anything could be true—even conjure women and spells and monsters. The police came sooner than we’d expected. We heard their sirens and saw their flashing lights before they’d even turned into the driveway. Four cars and an ambulance stopped at the side of the house. Doors opened, men got out. A couple of them had dogs, big German shepherds who”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Took: A Ghost Story

“The bones came out, the bones came out, the bones came out.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Deep and Dark and Dangerous

“In the sudden silence, Andrew grabbed my hand and shook it. “I’ll miss you, Drew. You’ve been a regular gent.”
It was hard not to cry, but I was determined to show Andrew I could be as tough as he was. “I’ll miss you too,” I admitted. “And Hannah and Theo and Mama and Papa. I never had a brother or a sister or a dog of my own before.”
“But you won’t miss Edward. He’ll be there waiting for you.” Andrew meant it as a joke, but neither of us laughed.
Suddenly serious, I gripped his shoulders tightly and stared into his eyes. “How will I know what happens to you?”
“Look in the graveyard,” Andrew said in a melancholy voice. “If you don’t see my tombstone, you’ll know I didn’t die.”
He laughed to show me he was joking again, but death was even less funny than the old man in the wheelchair.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Time for Andrew: A Ghost Story

“Stu asked me to marry him”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Stepping on the Cracks

“I told you before--you mustn’t let Edward scare you. He’s a bully and a coward. What would Frank Merriwell do if he were you?”
Frank Merriwell--I was thoroughly sick of hearing that name.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Time for Andrew: A Ghost Story

“Sometimes nothing is the scariest thing of all,”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Deep and Dark and Dangerous: A Ghost Story

“When Mama leaned over to kiss me, I hugged her so tight she could hardly breathe. “I’ll never forget you,” I whispered.
Mama drew back. “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” I mumbled. “I love you, Mama.”
She smiled. “Well, for goodness sake, you little jackanapes, I love you too.”
Smoothing the quilt over me, she turned to the others. “What Andrew needs is a good night’s sleep. In the morning, he’ll be himself again, just wait and see.”
“I hope so,” Andrew said.
Papa frowned. “No one will get any sleep, good or bad, with Buster making such a racket. I don’t know what ails that animal.”
While we’d been talking, Andrew had gone to the window and whistled for the dog. Though the Tylers hadn’t heard the loud two-fingered blast, Buster definitely had. His howls made the hair on my neck prickle. Even Andrew looked frightened. He backed away from the window and sat quietly in the rocker.
“Edward told me a dog howls when somebody in the family is about to die,” Theo said uneasily.
Papa shook his head. “That’s superstitious nonsense, Theodore. Surely you know better than to believe someone as well known for mendacity as your cousin.”
Muttering to himself, Papa left the room. Taking Theo with her, Mama followed, but Hannah lingered by the bed.
I reached out and grabbed her hand. “Don’t leave yet,” I begged. “Stay a while.”
Hannah hesitated for a moment, her face solemn, her eyes worried. “Mama’s right, Andrew,” she said softly. “You need to rest, you’ve overexcited yourself again. We’ve got all day tomorrow to sit in the tree and talk.”
When Hannah reached up to turn off the gas jet, I glanced at Andrew. He was watching his sister from the rocker, his eyes fixed longingly on her face. A little wave of jealousy swept over me. He’d get to be with her for years, but all I had were a few more minutes.
In the darkness, Hannah smiled down at me. “Close your eyes,” she said. “Go to sleep.”
“But I’ll never see you again.”
Hannah’s smile vanished. “Don’t talk nonsense,” she whispered. “You’ll see me tomorrow and every day after that.”
In the corner, Andrew stared at his sister and rocked the chair harder. In the silent room I heard it creak, saw it move back and forth.
Startled by the sound, Hannah glanced at the rocker and drew in her breath. Turning to me, she said, “Lord, the moon’s making me as fanciful as you. I thought I saw--”
She shook her head. “I must need a good night’s sleep myself.” Kissing me lightly on the nose, Hannah left the room without looking at the rocking chair again.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Time for Andrew: A Ghost Story

“Do you know how to play?” I asked.
Hannah gave me one of her vexed looks. “Goodness, Andrew, if it weren’t for me you wouldn’t know the first thing about marbles. Your brain is a regular sieve these days.”
I tapped my forehead to remind her I’d been sick. She looked so contrite I felt guilty. “Will you teach me all over again?”
Hannah poured her marbles onto the quilt and sighed. Without raising her eyes, she said, “Girls my age are supposed to be ladies, but sometimes I get mighty tired of trying to be what I’m not.”
Cradling an aggie almost as shiny as Andrew’s red bull’s-eye, she cocked her head, studied her targets, and shot. The aggie hit a glass marble and sent it spinning off the bed. Hannah grinned and tried again.
When all the marbles except the aggie were scattered on the floor, Hannah seized my chin and tipped my face up to hers. Looking me in the eye, she said, “If you promise not to tell a soul, I’ll give you as many lessons as you want. No matter what Papa thinks, I’d rather play marbles than be a lady, and that’s the truth.”
“Ringer,” I said sleepily. “Do you know how to play ringer?”
Hannah ruffled my hair. “You must be pulling my leg, Andrew. That’s what we always play. It’s your favorite game.”
I yawned. “Starting tomorrow, we’ll practice every day till I get even better than I used to be.”
“When I’m finished with you, you’ll be the all-time marble champion of Missouri.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Time for Andrew: A Ghost Story

“Papa cut his business trip short when he heard how ill you were. He’ll be home on the afternoon train. Won’t he be happy to see you looking so well!”
Hannah came running up the stairs. “Dr. Fulton’s on his way, Mama.”
“He’s in for a surprise, isn’t he?” Mrs. Tyler smiled at me. “Dr. Fulton didn’t think you’d live till morning, Andrew. The very idea--Hannah told him it would take more than diphtheria to kill you.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Time for Andrew: A Ghost Story

“What’s the meaning of this?” Papa strode toward us. “You’ve disturbed the entire household, Andrew.”
Mama gripped his arm. “For goodness sake, Henry, don’t frighten the child. Haven’t you done enough damage? I told you not to whip him!”
Papa made an effort to calm down. Taking a deep breath, he squatted in front of me. “What’s troubling you, son?” he asked. “Surely a spanking didn’t cause this.”
Aching with sadness, I put my arms around his neck. I’d won, I’d finally beaten Andrew. I’d thought I’d be happy, but I wasn’t. “I don’t want to leave you and Mama,” I sobbed.
Papa held me tight. “Now, now,” he said. “Where did you get such a silly notion? You aren’t going anywhere.”
While Papa comforted me, Andrew climbed onto his father’s shoulders, piggyback style. No one saw him but me. No one heard him say, “Hush Drew, you’re shaming me in front of everyone.”
Ignorant of Andrew’s presence, Papa shivered. “Fall’s coming. Feel the nip in the air?”
Hannah and Theo were waiting for us at the bottom of the steps. “Mama,” Theo whispered, “is Andrew sick again?”
Mama shook her head, but Theo looked unconvinced. Slipping his hand in Hannah’s, he watched Papa lay me on my bed.
On the other side of the room, Andrew took a seat in the rocking chair. It was obvious he didn’t enjoy being invisible. Staring at Hannah and Theo, he rocked the chair vigorously. When that didn’t get their attention, he sang “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” at the top of his lungs. But no matter what he said or did, he couldn’t make his sister or his brother see or hear him.
I knew Andrew was sad, but I was even sadder. When Mama leaned over to kiss me, I hugged her so tight she could hardly breathe. “I’ll never forget you,” I whispered.
Mama drew back. “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” I mumbled. “I love you, Mama.”
She smiled. “Well, for goodness sake, you little jackanapes, I love you too.”
Smoothing the quilt over me, she turned to the others. “What Andrew needs is a good night’s sleep. In the morning, he’ll be himself again, just wait and see.”
“I hope so,” Andrew said.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Time for Andrew: A Ghost Story

“I think Hannah had two brothers. Yes, I’m sure she did. Theo and, and--this boy.”
I shook my head. “If he’s Hannah’s brother, why isn’t he in any of the other pictures?”
Aunt Blythe didn’t answer right away. In the silence, rain pattered against the windows and dripped through holes in the roof. The wind crept in through cracks and stirred the folds of a long white dress hanging from the rafters.
Finally, my aunt raised her eyes from the photograph. “I think his name was Andrew. Isn’t that strange? You share a face and a name with a boy who died years before you were born.”
My throat tightened. “He died? Andrew died?”
Aunt Blythe looked at me. “Oh, dear,” she said, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“I’m not scared!” My voice came out as high and squeaky as a girl’s. Furious at myself for being such a baby, I leapt to my feet and headed for the stairs.
“Slow down, Drew,” my aunt called. “You’ll go through the floor!”
Before the words were out of her mouth, a board split under my weight, and I fell flat on my face.
In seconds my aunt was beside me. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“I’m fine.” Too embarrassed to meet her eyes, I peered into the hole I’d made.”
― Mary Downing Hahn, Time for Andrew: A Ghost Story