House of Usher1960

Roderick Usher:
Madeline and I are like figures of fine glass. The slightest touch and we may shatter. Both of us suffer from a morbid acuteness of the senses. Mine is the worst for having existed the longer, but both of us are afflicted with it. Any sort of food more exotic then the most pallid mash is unendurable to my taste buds. Any sort of garment other then the softest, is agony to my flesh. My eyes are tormented by all but the faintest illumination. Odors assail me constantly, and as I've said, sounds of any degree whatsoever inspire me with terror.

Philip Winthrop:
That's why your servant asked me to remove my boots?

Roderick Usher:
Yes... and even so I could hear you coming: every footstep, every rustle of your clothes. I could hear your horse approaching, hear the clatter of his hooves across the courtyard, your knock - the grating of the door bolt was like a sword-stroke to my ears... [lowers his voice to a whisper] I can hear the scratch of rat claws within the stone wall!