Quotes About Ghosts

The great tapestries of trees had darkened to ghosts back at the last edge of twilight. The early moon had drenched the arches with pale blue, and, weaving over the night, in and out of the gossamer rifts of moon, swept a song, a song with more than a hint of sadness, infinitely transient, infinitely regretful.

The grass is full of ghosts tonight.' 'The whole campus is alive with them.' They paused by Little and watched the moon rise, to make silver of the slate roof of Dodd and blue the rustling trees. 'You know,' whispered Tom, 'what we feel now is the sense of all the gorgeous youth that has rioted through here in two hundred years.

Afterward their ghosts played, yet both of them hoped from their souls never to meet. Was it the infinite sadness of her eyes that drew him or the mirror of himself that he found in the gorgeous clarity of her mind? She will have no other adventure like Amory, and if she reads this she will say: And Amory will have no other adventure like me.

No hay fuego ni frío que pueda desafiar a lo que un hombre guarda entre los fantasmas de su corazón.

The grass is full of ghost to-night.' 'The whole campus is alive with them.

Our thoughts were frosty mist along the eaves; our two ghosts kissed, high on the long, mazed wires - eerie half-laughter echoes here and leaves only a fatuous sigh for young desires; regret has followed after things she loved, leaving the great husk.

Ninguna cantidad de fuego o frescura puede desafiar lo que un hombre puede almacenar en los fantasmas de su corazón.

never walk near the bed; to a ghost your ankle is your most vulnerable part—once in bed, you're safe; he may lie around under the bed all night, but you're safe as daylight. If you still have doubts pull the blanket over your head.

It is, alas, chiefly the evil emotions that are able to leave their photographs on surrounding scenes and objects and whoever heard of a place haunted by a noble deed, or of beautiful and lovely ghosts revisiting the glimpses of the moon?

They say that shadows of deceased ghosts Do haunt the houses and the graves about, Of such whose life's lamp went untimely out, Delighting still in their forsaken hosts.

I used to tell strange, wild, improbable tales akin to ghost stories, and discovered a taste for spinning yarns.

I love ghost stories. I remember when I was about 12, I read M. R. James' 'Ghost Stories Of An Antiquary' under the covers, way too young to fully understand what was going on with those stories, completely terrified but absolutely loved them.

I don't care if you believe in ghosts at all. I challenge you to go spend the night walking the halls of Waverly Hills in Kentucky, which is a terrifying place.

I know that there are energies that vibrate frequencies that are so subtle you could say that they exist in a different territory or realm or sphere, and people mistake these frequencies for ghosts.

The flood will lift the ghosts from the Hollywood lawn cemetery and they will disappear like ether in the now dead air. All the names will be erased from the billboards and the theatres and the piers and the magazines and the monuments. You live by myths of immortality, and your myths are not safe.

I wrote this book for the ghosts, who, because they're outside of time, are the only ones with time. After the last rereading (just now), I realize that time isn't the only thing that matters, time isn't the only source of terror. Pleasure can be terrifying too, and so can courage.

Escribí este libro para mí mismo, y ni de eso estoy muy seguro. Durante mucho tiempo sólo fueron páginas sueltas que releía y tal vez corregía convencido de que no tenía tiempo. ¿Pero tiempo para qué? Era incapaz de explicarlo con precisión. Escribí este libro para los fantasmas, que son los únicos que tienen tiempo porque están fuera del tiempo.

Houses are like people. They have memories, and energy. They wait. They wilt from neglect. They sicken and decay. They haunt, and they are haunted. This house was a too big, rambling old place, populated by restless ghosts and bad memories. It seemed to rise out of the trees as we grew closer.

This is a very ancient land, and we've had nothing but slaughter for two thousand years. Sacrifices, wars, murders, nothing but bad deaths. We've got so many places full of bitter ghosts that anyone who goes near them or lives in them becomes heartless or insane. I don't believe in God, Captain, and I'm not superstitious, but I do believe in ghosts.

The world was filling with ghosts. We were a haunted country in a haunted world.

You can't assimilate Indian ghosts. It's too late!

were unaware that the room was crowded with ghosts who were about to propel us into the present and force us to face the future.

The ghosts of sad, cheap souls live on in sad, cheap furniture.

I like ghosts. I have heard it said that the dead have never done, in six thousand years, as much evil as the living do in a single day.