Quotes About Ghosts

Mi cabeza está colmada de sueños, mi corazón está colmado de fantasmas.

Though they don't always have to be set in fog, weather is incredibly important in ghost stories. As is suspense: you've got to turn the screw very, very slowly.

Liza is in the tabloids almost as much as our mother was. She has struggled with her own ghosts and shadows.

I love to be scared. Not, 'Hey, I think I smell smoke...' scared, but creepy, paranoid, what's-that-out-there-in-the-dark, ghost story scared. It's no surprise that I was the girl who got invited to the slumber parties because I could be counted on to tell a tale to scare the bejesus out of you.

As a kid, I was more scared of the supernatural stuff and ghosts and goblins and the Crypt Keeper from 'Tales from the Crypt.' I was always scared he would chase me up the stairs, as a kid.

I've talked to ghosts once. For me, it makes sense for them to be real because of physics. In physics, you can't destroy energy; it can only be conserved.

Historians can set up all the conceptual walls they want, but they should not be surprised when medieval people pass through them freely, like ghosts. Nonetheless,

These things are complicated, says the Health Department. Their names remain on the deed to the house. It isn't haunted, it's owned by ghosts.

America was different. America was a river, roarng along, unmindful of the past. I could wade into this river, let my sins drown to the bottom, let the waters carry me someplace far. Someplace with no ghosts, no memories, and no sins.

Kabul had become a city of ghosts for me. A city of harelipped ghosts. America was different. America was a river, roaring along, unmindful of the past. I could wade into this river, let my sins drown to the bottom, let the waters carry me someplace far. Someplace with no ghosts, no memories, and no sins.

America was different. America was a river, roaring along, unmindful of the past. I could wade into this river, let my sins drown to the bottom, let the waters carry me someplace far. Someplace with no ghosts, no memories, and no sins.

America was different. America was a river, roaring along, unmindful of the past. I could wade into this river, let my sins drown to the bottom, let the waters carry me someplace far. Someplace with no ghosts, no memories, and no sins. If for nothing else, for that, I embraced America.

America was different. America was a river, roaring along, unmindful of the past. I could wade into this river, let my sins drown to the bottom, let the waters carry me someplace far. Someplace with no ghosts, no memories, and no sins. If for nothing else, for that, I embraced America.   T

Kabulul devenise pentru mine un oraÈ™ al fantomelor. Un oraÈ™ al fantomelor cu buze de iepure. America era diferit?. America era un fluviu impetuos, nep?s?tor cu trecutul. Puteam s? m? scufund în fluviul ?sta, s?-mi las p?catele s? se înece la fund, s? las apele s? m? duc? undeva, departe. Undeva unde nu sunt nici fantome, nici amintiri, nici p?cate. Chiar È™i numai pentru asta, am adoptat America.

A city of harelipped ghosts

There is a spectre inside every photograph.

True love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have seen. -Francois de La Rochfoucauld

It was past dark when I reached the city and I'd mostly shoved my ghosts back into their graves. I let the gray mare pick her own pace and browse in the grain fields along the way.

Memories are nothing but ghosts in the corners of our minds.

Countless acts of observation give substance and reality to what would otherwise be ghosts of existence. This solves the so-called "measurement problem" of

Shakespeare also introduces the supernatural into some of his tragedies; he introduces ghosts, and witches who have supernatural knowledge.

He sat up abruptly in bed, stifled another cough. Someone was in his lighthouse. More than one person. Whispering. Or maybe even shouting, the sound by the time it infiltrated the brick and stone, the wood and steel, brought to him through a distance, a time, that he couldn't know. The irrational thought that he was hearing the ghosts of dozens of lighthouse keepers all at once, in a kind of threnody, the condensed chorus of a century. Another phantom sound?

We wanted to enjoy the afterglow and we were trying our best to bond, but it was difficult with so many people between us, even though most of them were ghosts.

Think about medieval times, Danny, like when this castle was built. People were constantly seeing ghosts, having visions—they thought Christ was sitting with them at the dinner table, they thought angels and devils were flying around. We don't see those things anymore. Why? Was all that stuff happening before and then it stopped? Unlikely. Was everyone nuts in medieval times? Doubtful. But their imaginations were more active. Their inner lives were rich and weird.