Quotes About Ghost

I had been right the first time. His sonorous voice echoed through a hollow place of sorrow, catching its reverberations from those ragged walls. His gaiety masked a deep well of loneliness; he was a bright outward shape wrapped around shadows. It frightened me to see this so clearly, as if I suddenly found I was waltzing with a ghost through the multicolored fantasy of a dream. All my love rushed back for him, complicated and partisan.

I suppose you really don't need those wires they used tonight, huh?" she said."I'm a vampire, not a ghost." He seemed offended.

Boo: Go talk to her. Callum: About what? Boo: Anything. Callum: You want me to walk up to her and say, 'Are you a ghost?' Boo: I do that. Callum: I love it when you get it wrong.

What are you? I asked. I'm the Ghost of the Night Before Exams. And how long did it take you to come up with that? Jazza asked. I'm a busy man, he replied.

There's a ghost of a dream that you don't even try to shake free off because you're too in love with the way she haunts you.

I want to materialize before that smug little shit like the Ghost of Christmas Past and scare the matrimonial impulse right out of him.

I put them near the cellar door in case you want to store them down there." "Yeah. I, uh... I'm not big on going down into this basement." "But you said this place only had one ghost in it, and she left." I had. But I never claimed that ,y loathing of basements was entirely rational. "I had a bizarre fabric softener incident once," I told her. "It scarred me for life.

Sit here, deliberating in cold debates, If we should sacrifice our lives to honour, Or wear them out in servitude and chains. Rouse up, for shame! our brothers of Pharsalia Point at their wounds, and cry aloud—To battle! 40 Great Pompey's shade2 complains that we are slow, And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged amongst us!

Violetpaw: She brought me here to meet you. Tree: That was kind of her. Perhaps she thinks we're soulmates. Violetpaw: Soulmates? Tree: It is kind of romantic, don't you think? The moonlight? The heather? Violetpaw: Romantic? Do you flirt with every strange cat you meet? Tree: Only the ones who appear in the middle of the night claiming a ghost brought them.

All dressed up with nowhere to go. Walking with a dead man over my shoulder. Don't run away, it's only me.…

The bedroom in my apartment is far too small to hold a nightstand. There is, however, this bookshelf. Yes, I stow whatever I'm reading on the lower shelf, but more importantly, it's where I keep a collection of ghost books.

My soul has been haunted by something like those forgotten melodies that come back to us at twilight, during those slow hours in which memory, like a ghost among ruins, stalks our thoughts.

Strange though it may seem, people rarely show such enthusiasm as when they are seeking the proof of a ghost story—the soul gathers all this sort of thing to its hungry bosom.

One can be one's own ghost and roam about in various places, sometimes many places simultaneously. Perhaps I didn't approach it quite correctly. A ghost is always the result of botched work; a ghost means unsuccessful resurrection, a shadow of an image that has perhaps once been alive, a kind of abortion in the universe.

'Stree' is a horror comedy in which a bridal ghost who is back in town to take revenge from men, she is the one giving a lot of pain to the men. We have reversed the role, which is such an amazing feeling.

There is a ghost That eats hankerchiefs; It keeps you company On all your travels.

There is a ghost That eats handkerchiefs It keeps you company On all your travels.

I can't believe I'm dating a sadist! If the school is haunted, I'll cheat on him with a ghost!

As regards being dead, however, one of my main consolations has always been that I have the strongest intention of being an extremely active ghost. Let nobody make any mistake about that.

The haunted type­writer clacked busily away to my left, operated by a journalist who was murdered several years ago, but hadn't let a little thing like being dead interfere with his work.

I barely remember her, but I am still in love with her ghost.

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.

Every love story is a ghost story.

Angela felt like a ghost, moving out of time. Yesterday, they had rushed down this hallway, screaming with laughter as they grabbed their favorite rooms. Now the doors were all cocked open from when the police had trampled through. There had been strangers in the house, strangers in the suitcases, strangers in the drawers and closets