Quotes About Ghost

The other day upon the stair, I saw a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today; how I wish he'd go away!" ~Gabrielle O'Callaghan towards Adam Black

Who can say what the dead do or do not know? Perhaps the knowledge of one's death, ceaselessly swallowed, is the very food you need to become a ghost.

but I believe I met my mother there, in the final instant. Not her ghost but some vaster portion of her, her self boundlessly recharged beneath the water.

Even if she'd [Ossie] gotten away from him [her ghost fiancé] the prognostications were grim—alligators with unusual pigmentation can't camouflage themselves in the dust-and-olive palette of the swamp. Their skin is spotlit for predators. That's why you don't see albino Seths [Ava's pet name for alligators] in the wild. Once an alligator reaches a size of four feet its only real predator is man.

Perhaps the knowledge of one's death, ceaselessly swallowed, is the very food you need to become a ghost. They burned that knowledge up like whale fat and continued to shine on.

Maybe that rusty boat hangar looked like the entrance to a cave to her," he'd said. Maybe. If you were eight, and near-sighted, and nostalgic for places that you'd never been. But if the Glowworm Grotto actually exists, that changes everything. Olivia's ghost could be there now, twitching her nose with rabbity indignation - "But I left you a map!" Wondering what took us so long to find her.

A carnival in daylight is an unfinished beast, anyway. Rain makes it a ghost. The wheezing music from the empty, motionless rides in a soggy, rained-out afternoon midway always hit my chest with a sweet ache. The colored dance of the lights in the seeping air flashed the puddles in the sawdust with an oily glamour.

She understood neither the conventions of Noh nor the language. Marx would occasionally whisper poetic, cryptic commentary into her ear: "The fisherman's ghost was killed for fishing in the wrong river." Or "The drum is silent, and the gardener is killing himself.

It was like a bad dream with only one saving grace: my family thought I was dead. I suddenly felt lighter, relieved of the burden that had been placed on me as a living person. Yet, there was still someone who knew I existed, which made me feel like a real person again, not a ghost roaming the earth.

As a neutrino has no mass or electrical charge and can pass through the planet in a blink, so this bag lady's existence can pass through this world; she, like the neutrino, is a ghost, yet both are real, both exist and have presence, even if that presence is unseen or ignored.

Put on some music, honey. Put on some Diz, will you? His music is magic, and you'll please his ghost by invoking it," Kodama said. "You'll need his protection in the days ahead.

As an antidote to daily living in a compulsorily egalitarian society, a good ghost story, against all appearances, can bring real joy. The reader may actually depart from it singing [7].

Las Vegas marks itself out by nothingness. All the negative descriptions that can generally be used in labelling a city apply to it, for its absence of consistency actually makes its existence doubtful: no man's land, waste ground, non-place, ghost town, urban simulacrum, nowhere city, etc. For us it is Zeropolis, the non-city which is the very first city, just as zero is the very first number. The nothing that counts, the nothingness of neon.

Thus, while in the life the great whale's body may have been a real terror to his foes, in his death his ghost becomes a powerless panic to a world. Are you a believer in ghosts, my friend? There are other ghosts than the Cock-Lane one, and far deeper men than Doctor Johnson who believe in them.

It wasn't hatred that killed the innocents but faith, that famished ghost, still revered, even in the mildest quarters.

Fresh-bearded young men with beautiful skin and long guns on Boulevard Voltaire gazing into the beautiful, disbelieving eyes of their own generation. It wasn't hatred that killed the innocents but faith, that famished ghost, still revered, even in the mildest quarters. Long ago, someone pronounced groundless certainty a virtue.

When I was in hospital, I recorded a ghost. My fave YouTube channel is Huff Paranormal, which is about a guy who talks to ghosts like he's talking to his neighbours.

In North Germany, a troublesome ghost is bagged, and the bag emptied in some lone spot or in the garden of a neighbour against whom a grudge is entertained.

I can see my ghost trying to get that Academy Award, forever stuck in a casting office. Can you imagine? I've spent enough time in audition rooms. I don't want to be doing that in my afterlife.

He rises bloodless from dust, with dead eyes that are pits twin reaches to eternal pain. He is the lodestone to the gathering clan, made anew and dream-racked. The standard a rotted hide, the throne a bone cage, the king a ghost from dark fields of battle. And now the horn moans on this grey clad dawn drawing the disparate host To war, to war, and the charging frenzy of unbidden memories of ice. - Lay of the First Sword

Nor would he recognize hope if it came to him. Too much a stranger, too long a ghost.

Life belonged to other people, and his only claim to it was his power to take it from them. Nor would he recognize hope if it came to him. Too much a stranger, too long a ghost.

He thinks of Mrs. Ristovski. He doesn't know what made her the way she is, but something has killed her, he can see now that she is a ghost as well. She has been a ghost for a long time. And to be a ghost while you're still alive is the worst thing he can imagine.

I'm alone with the ghost of the swamp, somewhere near the weeping willows.