Quotes About Haunted

You have to want the haunted house to scare you. It completely steals your money to go through with one of those people who shrug it all off, who touch the monsters' faces to show they're fake.

Who'd make that shit up? Well," she reasoned, "maybe Stephen King. But then it would involve murderous clowns or haunted hotels or . . . the end of the world. Have you read The Stand?" "Is this how Manson worked?" "Manson who?

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

The poet Emily Dickinson said that nature is a haunted house, while art is a house that tries to be haunted. She was born and died in the same room.

Gatsby's ghost may have haunted me, because even in high school I knew that promise lay in the East, particularly in New York City, and ever so vaguely, I began to dream of what I had never seen and where I had never been.

It is a haunted place, strange with secrets.

The cabin in the woods is to the American Gothic what the haunted castle is to the European - the seed from which everything else ultimately grows.

I don't suppose you have to believe in ghosts to know that we are all haunted, all of us, by things we can see and feel and guess at, and many more things that we can't.

The emotional toll itself was exhausting. Her dreams were haunted by visions of the rape and its aftermath, the violation of everything that made her human.

Don't think I'm not haunted knowing that I might be missing out on things that I'd much prefer not to be missing out on. I am haunted , Betsy. You think I alienate myself from society? Of course I alienate myself from society. It's the only way I know of not being constantly reminded of all the ways I'm alienated from society.

Would he be haunted, as she knew she would be, by the memory of the love they'd once clung to, yet tented to so recklessly, and abandoned so carelessly?

I think it is safe to say that while the South is hardly Christ-centered, it is most certainly Christ-haunted.

I've got quite a vivid imagination and I'm easily overwhelmed by sensations and things that are beautiful or scary. I don't think I've ever seen a ghost - I think I'm probably haunted by my own ghosts than real ones.

I left you clean. Purged of all your ghosts. I am the one who has been haunted all my life. Haunted by you.

Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind, Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves, The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach, Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow. Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free, Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands, With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves, Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

When I was a little kid, I wrote this play about all these characters living in a haunted house. There was a witch who lived there, and a mummy. When they were all hassling him, this guy who bought the house - I can't believe I remember this - he said to them, 'Who's paying the mortgage on this haunted house?' I thought that was really funny.

I've always dreamed of having a year-round haunted house.

For me, Halloween is year-round. But my Halloween is the real Halloween - dealing with the real dead.

children listen to superstitious tales, the story goes, that that spot, in the heart of the "Big Cane," is a haunted place. For more than a quarter of a century, human voices had rarely, if ever, disturbed the silence of the clearing. Rank and noxious weeds had overspread the once cultivated field—serpents sunned themselves on the doorway of the crumbling cabin. It was indeed a dreary picture

The truth was, history repeated itself on a daily basis; mistakes were made over and over. People were haunted by what they had done, and by what they hadn't had time to do.

Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reins

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 ghost stories, I love to read them, and I love the idea of being haunted.

I am haunted by interrupted acts, introspective as a leper, enchanted by a repulsive clew, a gross and fugitive movement of the limbs. Is this the love that shook the lights to flame?