Quotes About Phantom

Sleep was like a phantom I was too tired to chase.

Perhaps living souls had greater phantom powers than the dead.

rather like a tired ghost after a long and exhausting spell of haunting.

We Sith are an unseen opposition, Tenebrous had told his young apprentice. A phantom menace. Where the Sith once wore armor, we now wear cloaks. But the Force works through us all the more powerfully in our invisibility. For the present, the more covert we remain, the more influence we can have. Our revenge will be achieved not through subjugation but by contagion.

Eric screams and screams and pounds his head against the wall until phantom fire trucks race across his vision. All he wants is pain. Pain and hate. Yes, hate. But never fear. Fear is for the enemy. Fear and bullets.

She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight A lovely Apparition sent To be a moment's ornament.

The one thing I can tell you is that you wont survive for yourself. I know because I would never have come this far. A person who had no one would be well advised to cobble together some passable ghost. Breathe it into being and coax it along with words of love. Offer it each phantom crumb and shield it from harm with your body. As for me my only hope is for eternal nothingness and I hope it with all my heart.

In that mycoidal phantom blooming in the dawn like an evil lotus and in the melting of solids not heretofore known to do so stood a truth that would silence poetry for a thousand years.

Coming downriver an antique schooner running under bare poles. Black hull, gold plimsoll. Passing under the bridge and down along the gray riverfront. Phantom of grace.

On the back of the Silver Phantom I have flown so high that his wing-tips seemed to touch the very moon itself…

A Phantom arose before me with distrustful aspect, Terrible in beauty, age, and power, The genius of poets of old lands, As to me directing like flame its eyes, With finger pointing to many immortal songs, And menacing voice, What singest thou? it said

Ahoy, to the Phantom Rider, Lincoln Slade! He will not be speaking at the Nerd Cruise banquet. Mr. Slade is here for personal reasons (murder, stalking).

I had met him, the New Mortal, baffled and lost, but I was a phantom Helen and he was Achilles' ghost.

At first, she bucked like a wild stag beneath me, and she tried to scream, but the pillow did a good job of muffling her voice.  Before long, the bucking stopped, and my wife's corpse, blue without oxygen, appeared below me like a hideous phantom.

Possibility, infinity, beauty -- none of those words were right. [...] What he really wanted to say was: have you felt this? this phantom life streaking like a phosphorescent hound at the edges of your ruin?

Home! By what magic comes this spell? What wand has touched these humble walls, And made them glow as with a holy warmth? What disembodied spirit glorifies the place? Whose feet may claim the phantom echoes That bring once more a thrill? Whose memoried voice is this that holds More sacred music in its roughest note Than ever came from seraph's throat?

Every dead hope is a phantom that grimaces over its tomb.

whom we do not believe. Who we know does not exist.

I received a grant from The Ford Foundation to write a book for kids about urban perception, or how people experience cities, but I kept putting off writing it. Instead I started to write what became The Phantom Tollbooth.

Neuroscientist V. S. Ramachandran's work with phantom limbs seems to confirm the brain's remarkable ability to create a sense of cognitive unity even if the reality (of many selves, and of many layers of consciousness) is more complex.

And if that's what he can do as a paper-and-ink phantom, imagine what it was like when he was still alive, if you actually shared in his hatreds and believed in the prophecies, and surrendered as the text-Lenin reached up from the page to hand you the crack pipe of revolution for another hit of the good shit.

The bitterness and alcohol and depression are stripped away from these phantom incarnations, and they console and protect me in death as they never did in life. I've come to think that's what heaven is—a place in the memory of others where our best selves live on.

Rome fell silently to ruins. A New city rose in its place, and it was too erased by emptiness. Like phantom Giants, cities, kingdoms, and countries swiftly fell and disappeared into emptiness-- swallowed up in the black maw of the Infinite

It was like I'd become a ghost without having to go through the messy intermediate step of actually dying.