Quotes About Ghost

In every room this is still your house, your history. And if in the morning I rise like a ghost, outside it is still winter and sun bright, and snow like the memory of a long rain.

I thought about telling him the truth: 'Oh, nothing. Just having my soul exorcised so I can roam around purgatory, looking for the ghost of the dead cowboy who used to live in my bedroom.

Rarely does the truth set us free. Usually it chains us to the earth like a ghost.

Yes, she answers and does not move. She might, at this moment, be nothing but a floating intelligence; not even a brain inside a skull, just a presence that perceives, as a ghoast might. Yes, she thinks, this is probably how it must feel to be a ghost. It's a little like reading, isn't it-that same sensation of knowing people, settings, situations, without playing any particular part beyond that of the willing observer.

It's your life, quite possibly your only one. Still you find yourself having a vodka at three a.m., waiting for your pill to kick in, with time ticking through you and your own ghost already wandering among your rooms.

Yes, she thinks, this probably how it must feel to be a ghost. It's a little like reading, isn't it—that same sensation of knowing people, settings, situations, without playing any particular part beyond that of the willing observer.

Every immigrant family, it seems, has someone who does not belong in the new country they have come to. It feels like permanent exile to that one brother or wife who cannot stand a silent fate in Boston or London or Melbourne. I've met many who remain haunted by the persistent ghost of an earlier place.

Water is the exile, carried back in cans and flasks, the ghost between your hands and your mouth.

There's water in my bones a ghost of a chance

Unsalted butter is a sin against the Holy Ghost.

The Papacy is not other than the Ghost of the deceased Roman Empire, sitting crowned upon the grave thereof.

When I was sixteen, I wrote the first hundred or so pages of a novel about a piano that was haunted by the ghost of an evil blues musician.

I love a ghost story. I think they affect me more than other people that are much more skeptical than I am. I think that it's good that I do buy into them to some degree.

I know you and Lloyd enjoy the idea of a ghost and that sort of silliness, but a sick old lady isn't going to understand your flights of fancy—or appreciate them!" Enjoy! Sarah thought indignantly. Flights of fancy! What would her mother say if she saw the porcelain shepherd moving across the dresser top!

The ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face

I thought that if I died To you, I who had only been a ghost to you, You might be able to find the road back To a time when you were real -

And Jinnears—engineers! Who works with machines? Engineers and . . . and techs. Jinnears and Ticks. Renie let out a hysterical giggle. But that means I'm a Jinnear, too—I have a degree and everything. Why didn't the Other make me a killer ghost-jellyfish as well?

Ren-Hey...Anju...Under the bed... Anju-Oh... There's a blonde guy with an axe,right? He's a new friend. Ren-A ghost?

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.

Deep in my cortex, the year is divided into reading seasons. The period from mid-October to Christmas, for instance, is 'ghost story' time, while Jane Austen and P. G. Wodehouse pretty much own April and May.

I don't think I've ever been haunted by a ghost, but I always joke with my fiance about the house we're living in right now. It seems to have something in it.

It was past midnight when the doctor from Stellenbosch drove splashing through the drift. Warned by the beam of his car's headlights, which dredged up, as it were, the white ghost of the house from depths of a dense, hot darkness, Hans Malan stalked out on to the stoep to meet him.

My robotic ghost would haunt your fleshy one.

I'm going to come back to West Virginia when this is over. There's something ancient and deeply-rooted in my soul. I like to think that I have left my ghost up one of those hollows, and I'll never really be able to leave for good until I find it. And I don't want to look for it, because I might find it and have to leave." - from a letter to his mother Helen Pancake that Breece wrote in Charlottesville, where he was studying writing.