Quotes About Haunting

I want to believe in ghosts. I love ghost stories.

Engelbert Humperdinck

I love ghosts - I'm a ghost person and have been most of my life.

I like to believe there are ghosts all over the place!

I wish ghosts were real!

I definitely believe in ghosts.

I think there are ghosts. I haven't seen or heard anything. I've definitely felt something, but it's not scary.

I don't like ghosts.

I believe in ghosts.

There is no event so commonplace but that God is present within it, always hiddenly, always leaving you room to recognize him or not to recognize him, but all the more fascinatingly because of that, all the more compellingly and hauntingly.

I know 'Hallelujah' isn't actually a Christmas song, but it has that cozy, haunting vibe that sounds like a winter's night and belongs by a fire.

I used to live in an old historic shipyard town called Trenton, Michigan, and a month after I moved in, I started hearing this woman screaming my full name at three in the morning, every night. Finally, on the seventh or eighth night, she screamed it again, and I woke up.

To the darkness and the night, the spirits seem to have a natural claim - it is their realm; the boldest of us have sometimes felt an unaccountable creeping in the thick darkness.

It was impossible to explain. The new moon, the snow, the dusky smell of burning logs -- the whole evening had throbbed with some sweet haunting anguish of the soul. The word came to her. Nostalgia--for something that was hers and seemed already passed.

Kelly O. realized she had a problem with her Ouija board when an aggressive entity turned the planchette into a sex toy and sent it slithering up her thigh.

It's interesting to come back to your childhood home. And creepy, too, like becoming very young and very old, both at the same time. The spirit that haunts the house.' That

It's interesting to come back to your childhood home. And creepy, too, like becoming very young and very old, both at the same time. The spirit that haunts the house.' That was how she looked, I thought, in her archaic long skirt – very young and very old, the granddaughter and the grandmother in one person, slightly schizo. She

Mussoorie has its woman in white. Late at night, she can be seen sitting on the parapet wall on the winding road up to the hill-station. Don't stop to offer her a lift. She will fix you with her evil eye and ruin your holiday. The

Perhaps the wind is made up of ghosts. Perhaps this wind contains the ghosts of all the people who have lived, died and want to come in again from the cold.

The pain of losing something precious - be it happiness or material wealth – can be forgotten over time. But our missed opportunities never leave us, and every time they come back to haunt us, we ache. Or perhaps what haunts us is that nagging thought that things might have turned out differently. Because without that thought, we would put it down to fate and accept it.

When I woke, my anguish was specific: the possibility that it was as painful for them to be remembered as it was for me to remember them; that I was haunting my parents and Bella with my calling, startling them awake in their black beds.

A place so empty it was not even haunted

Hell's Bells ringing, my secret music...

It was haunted; but real hauntings have nothing to do with ghosts finally; they have to do with the menace of memory.