Quotes About Haunting

The Overlook was still not done with him. Written on the mirror, not in lipstick but in blood, was a single word: REDRUM

Certain empty houses that seemed to stare like the faces of people suffering from terrible mental illness. An empty barn on the outskirts of town, the hayloft door swinging open and closed on rusty hinges, first disclosing darkness, then hiding it, then disclosing it again.

Fright and loss leave residue.

Some memories battened onto a person's mind like evil leeches, and certain words could bring them instantly back to squirming, feverish life.

And way across, on the other side, this is crazy, but I thought I saw that hotel you talked about. Then I blinked my eyes—the wind was so strong they were tearing up—and when I looked again, it was gone." Bucky doesn't smile. "You're not the only person who's seen that. I'm not a superstitious man, but I wouldn't go anywhere near where the Overlook Hotel used to stand. Bad stuff happened there.

Thud, thud, thud, riderless black horse with red eyes coming down the halls of his mind, ironshod hooves digging up soft gray clods of brain tissue, leaving hoofprints to fill up with mystic crescents of blood.

Tied to my reading lamp was a single balloon. Filled with helium, it floated in a morning sunray which slanted in through one of the high windows. On it was a picture of my face, the eyes gone, blood running down from the ragged sockets, a scream distorting the mouth on the balloon's thin and bulging rubber skin. I looked at it and I screamed.

Every big hotel has got a ghost. Why? Hell, people come and go Ã¢â'¬Â¦

Jordan has a strange, haunting beauty and a sense of timelessness. Dotted with the ruins of empires once great, it is the last resort of yesterday in the world of tomorrow. I love every inch of it.

I ask you not to judge me for my weakness. The only way I can endure is to be in a place where I will never see you, never be haunted by the possibility of seeing you with him. I need to be somewhere where sheer necessity forces you from my thoughts minute by minute, hour by hour, I cannot do that here.

More ghosts have been created in bedrooms than anywhere else.

eerie patterns and lurid colors. Every few seconds

I often talk with other actors about that time when you've just finished a job, because I think you do take on the characteristics of some of the characters you play. Sometimes it can be a great thing and sometimes it's a bit haunting because you're not quite sure how to leave it on set. My dad talks about it as being 'de-personalised.'

What is it, really, though, but a haunting—the ancient dead disturbed from slumber, punishing us for our greed and blindness, our restless lack of reverence? What is it but the past come back, and time unhinged, collapsing?

It may be that what you could be haunts you. It is real. It is a weight you have to carry around. Each failure to become, to be, is a weight. Each state you could inhabit is a burden as heavy as any physical weight, but more so, because it weighs on your soul. It is the ghost of your possibilities hanging around your neck, an invisible albatros, potentials unknowingly murdered.

era el símbolo, la imagen misma de la propia Praga, llamativa, siniestra y deforme.

Rather than a horror film, a ghost story is different because a ghost is what you can't quite see.

For me, 'The Haunting of Hill House' is a series about life after a haunting, what happens after the credits roll in most horror films.

I had a dream. I dreamed I was on this island, and there were two hotels, and one hotel was filled with dead people, and the other one wasn't, and I was in the hotel full of dead people.

And yet, I felt it too: the house. Not necessarily malevolent, but...mindful. I could feel it studying me, does that make sense? It crowded me. One day, I was wiping down the floorboards, and suffered a sudden, slicing pain in my middle finger - as if I'd been bitten - and when I pulled it away, I was bleeding. I wrapped my finger tightly in one of my spare rags and watched the blood seep through. And I felt like something in the house was pleased.

If you remove the bloody floorboards and water-stained tiles; if you destroy the beams that held Robert Carterhook's body, and you tear down the walls that absorbed the screams, do you take down the house? Can it be haunted if the actual guts - its internal organs - have been removed? Or does the nastiness linger in the air?

There's something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold

Wow, someone walk over your grave?

One's own yesterday is a ghost that will not be laid. Death is the only exorcism.