Quotes About Haunting

The past was not always past enough here. It was like living in a house acquired for its clean angles and gleaming appliances, and discovering a bricked-up foor at which, faint but insistent, the sound of knocking could be heard.

The experience I had had when I interviewed Agmatir started to haunt me. During the numberless hours before daybreak, I would wake from nightmares. I was physically exhausted. Allowing a serial killer to enter your mind and allowing his perverted sexual fantasies to cloud your own psyche causes mental damage which can become permanent.

Forgiveness is warm. Like a tear on a cheek. Think of that and of me when you stand in the rain. I loved you completely. And you loved me the same. That's all. The rest is confetti. -Nell Crain - The Haunting of Hill House

People rarely believe in ghosts until they are left home alone or when they are feeling lonely within.

The future that we will never experience is constantly haunting us in the present moment. Thus, taking away our true happiness.

Her mind is a haunted house.

Lifting her head, she joined in as the others in the group began to howl in response to Brace's triumph. The sound was . . . It touched the soul, the music haunting, starkly pure and yet so very earthy.

He haunts me. The sniper. In my dreams, he is a black shadow with his eye focused on the scope of a rifle. Sometimes, he puts down the weapon and walks toward me. Sometimes, he even touches me. But most times, he presses the trigger. And kills me.

In my dream, the ghost of history lies down beside me, rolls over, pins me beneath a heavy arm.

There is a fatality, a feeling so irresistible and inevitable that it has the force of doom, which almost invariably compels human beings to linger around and haunt, ghostlike, the spot where some great and marked event has given the color to their lifetime; and still the more irresistibly, the darker the tinge that saddens it.

Ghosts were not the spirits of the dead returning but the memories of the living not yet laid to rest.

The older you get, the more you live with ghosts.

Cell 14-D, in the infamous Hole, is said to be always colder than the other D Block cells, even when the weather is warm. Stories have been told of a prisoner locked in 14-D who screamed all night long. He said that a creature with glowing red eyes was trying to kill him. The next morning, he was found dead.

The child would wake in the night to her mother's dream cries-a man coming to steal her, steal her child, steal her payment-and her mother would not eat, only hunch over the bowel and scry, and follow the girl about with haunted eyes.

There are always people missing. And sometimes I see their ghosts.

Ghosts grew from the thin grey mist of hollow hills, the damp and drizzle of dusk, the breath of the dead.

Psychoanalysis is often about turning our ghosts into ancestors, even for patients who have not lost loved ones to death. We are often haunted by important relationships from the past that influence us unconsciously in the present. As we work them through, they go from haunting us to becoming simply part of our history.

Yet even in the loneliness of the canyon I knew there were others like me who had brothers they did not understand but wanted to help. We are probably those referred to as "our brother's keepers," possessed of one of the oldest and possible one of the most futile and certainly one of the most haunting instincts. It will not let us go.

U)derneath all the complexity of human life that uneasy stare at an alien nature is still haunting us, and the problem of surmounting it is still with us.

They said a spectre was haunting Europe. 'Do you know what a spectre is?' the ideologues asked the beedi-rollers. 'We know, comrades,' Koomankavu's new proletarians replied. 'We have djinns and poothams here.' 'You are not listening, comrades.

Could such a many-chambered edifice have stood a century and a half and not have had its passages of romance to bequeath their lingering legends to the after-time?... It was a great happiness to have been born in an old house haunted by such recollections, with harmless ghosts walking its corridors, with fields of waving grass and trees and singing birds...

The worst of a modern stylish mansion is that it has no place for ghosts.

The day comes when love means something beyond a reflection of ourselves, when there is more behind than ahead and the house of mind is haunted in every chamber with old songs, old ghosts, old hopes.

Nice is a city of ghosts and specters, but I hope not to become one of them right away.