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Ghost Quotes

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Ghost Quotes

“Like all good ghost stories, Shirley Jackson's "The Haunting of Hill House" sets a trap for its protagonist. In the classic version of the form[...], the hero is a gentleman of mildly investigatory bent: a scholar, a collector, or an antiquarian. What lures him into the vicinity of the ghost is often intellectual curiosity and, occasionally, greed; what attracts the ghost's wrath or malevolence is the hero's tendency to meddle, to open the sealed room, to root around for treasure, to pocket a souvenir. The hero ("victim" might be a better word) typically hasn't got much personality beyond his intrusiveness; he's just someone inclined to put himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and to rue the consequences.”

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Book:The Haunting of Hill House
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“You can call me Benny," I offer, hoping to get on her good side. The last thing I need is some crazy woman - dead or otherwise - angry at me. "No," she muses. "I think I'll just call you Ford." "Why not Benny?" "I'd rather keep calling you pansy, but I don't think that will go over too well with the people I work for." "The mafia?" "Keep pushing me, Ford. I may kill you myself.”

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Book:Be the Death of Me
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“The girl's arms jutted out at awkward angles, not quite hands on the hips belligerent but not relaxed either, as if they weren't all the way under the girl's control. "I came to find you." "I didn't know. If I'd known..." "It doesn't matter now." The girl's attention was unwavering. "This is where you are." "It is at that." The girl looked sad. Her soil-dark eyes were clouded over by tears she hadn't been able to shed. "I came here to find you." "I couldn't have known." Maylene reached out and plucked a leaf from the girl's hair. "Doesn't matter." She lifted a dirty hand, fingernails flashing chipped red polish, but she didn't seem to know what to do with her outstretched fingers. Little girl fears warred with teenage bravado. Bravado won. "I'm here now." "All right, then." Maylene walked down the path toward one of the gates. She pulled the key from her handbag, twisted it in the lock, and pushed open the gate.”

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Book:Graveminder
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“It's a shame, when I'm at the checkout line, and the cashier holds up my bill to the light, in search for a ghost president, or slashing a yellow marker to see if counterfeit. Even in money we can't be trusted. Makes we wonder whats next, will the government make a marker to slash our hand, or an x-ray we will have to walk through, to check if we have a dishonest heart or corrupt spirit?”

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Author:Anthony Liccione
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“The king gathered himself. It felt as if the tomb was breathing in. The painted warriors lifted their swords and the archers let fly their arrows, aimed at the dust-wife. They were trapped in the wall and it should not have been possible for them to reach her, and yet for a moment, it seemed as if she would be drawn in to the wall, as if the arrows must reach her... Moonlight flashed as she held up her staff and the painted arrows fell apart in to scattered pigment across the floor. I will not bend! hissed the dead king, rising from his throne. 'Then you will break,' said the dust-wife, and slammed her staff across the painted wall.”

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Book:Nettle & Bone
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“Do you really think I’ve been murdered?” Michael’s voice was soft, but I still heard it from across the bedroom. He stood in the doorway with a rather solemn expression. Words failed me. Would he really want to hear the answer? If it were me, would I want to know if someone killed me? Maybe. I took a deep breath. “I’ll be honest with you. It doesn’t look good. The fact that no one knows you’re dead yet makes me worry that your death might have been intentional.” I stepped closer to him, staring all the way up into his face. “But if you want the truth, I don’t think the reason you died was your fault. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re a good guy. I’m sorry this happened to you.” He gazed at me for a handful of seconds before nodding and his hair slid forward into his eyes. For some reason, it was the first time Michael seemed human. He was always so amiable and confident that seeing him be vulnerable felt odd. “Thank you.” “Come on. Let’s go find some answers.”

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Book:The Black Parade
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“And suddenly, in the place of the woman-shape made of shadow, there was something else. Something huge, something ugly. Linay flung up both hands. The thing screamed like a hawk and opened to wings: one white as a death cap, one clotted in shadow. The wings came together and the whole pond shuddered. Something hit Kate's ear and shoulder and smashed to the deck by her feet. It was a swallow, dead. She could hear them falling all over the pond.”

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Book:Plain Kate
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“He does love prophesying a misfortune, does the average British ghost. Send him out to prognosticate trouble to somebody, and he is happy. Let him force his way into a peaceful home, and turn the whole house upside down by foretelling a funeral, or predicting a bankruptcy, or hinting at a coming disgrace, or some other terrible disaster, about which nobody in their senses would want to know sooner than they could possible help, and the prior knowledge of which can serve no useful purpose whatsoever, and he feels that he is combining duty with pleasure. He would never forgive himself if anybody in his family had a trouble and he had not been there for a couple of months beforehand, doing silly tricks on the lawn or balancing himself on somebody's bedrail. ("Introduction" to TOLD AFTER SUPPER)”

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Book:Gaslit Nightmares: Stories by Robert W. Chambers, Charles Dickens, Richard Marsh, and Others
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“I was raised as a Baptist in the Bible Belt of the South. Until the age of 37, I had never heard anyone teach or preach about the baptism of the Holy Ghost. Oh yes, I had heard those scriptures read, more aptly read over, and had read over them myself, but I had never heard anyone try to explain this amazing experience or even give it any credence.”

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Book:This Is That: My Journey to the Holy Spirit
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“En una calurosa y sofocante noche de verano… Maruyama Ōkyo se despertó de un intranquilo sueño para contemplar a una muerta. Era joven, hermosa y pálida. De una lividez sobrenatural. Se podía atisbar su piel exangüe furtivamente entre los pliegues de su holgado kimono funerario de color blanco hueso. Su descolorida apariencia contrastaba con las estrechas hendiduras de sus ojos negros y el largo cabello azabache que colgaba desgreñado de sus hombros. No tenía pies.”

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Book:Yurei: The Japanese Ghost
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“There was a subtle shift in the mood in the room. Not exactly hostile, Tempy felt, more of one of accusation. It was impolite in this company to demonstrate how much the world had moved on since one had died. It was said that Hell was seeing the world pass before you while you could do nothing about it. Not only had she reminded George of his passing, and his inability to become integrated into polite society due to the language barrier, but also that he had lived a sad life.”

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Book:Blue Summer: A Pair of Normal Girls Mystery
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“Today is an ephemeral ghost... A strange amazing day that comes only once every four years. For the rest of the time it does not "exist." In mundane terms, it marks a "leap" in time, when the calendar is adjusted to make up for extra seconds accumulated over the preceding three years due to the rotation of the earth. A day of temporal tune up! But this day holds another secret—it contains one of those truly rare moments of delightful transience and light uncertainty that only exist on the razor edge of things, along a buzzing plane of quantum probability... A day of unlocked potential. Will you or won't you? Should you or shouldn't you? Use this day to do something daring, extraordinary and unlike yourself. Take a chance and shape a different pattern in your personal cloud of probability!”

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Book:The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration
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“Careful, Abbey," Caspian warned. "Don't get too close." "He killed her, Caspian! He was the reason she was at the bridge that night." "I know but--" Vincent suddenly turned to face Caspian. "Could you just shut up? All this back and forht is really confusing. I'll get to you in a minute." Caspian's jaw dropped. So did mine. "You can see him?" I asked. "Who are you?" "Not who," Vincent said, a tone of sheer entitlement in his voice. "What.”

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Book:The Haunted
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“Oh God just look at me now... one night opens words and utters pain... I cannot begin to explain to you... this... I am not here. This is not happening. Oh wait, it is, isn't it? I am a ghost. I am not here, not really. You see skin and cuts and frailty...these are symptoms, you known, of a ghost. An unclear image with unclear thoughts whispering vague things... If I told you what was really in my head, you''d never let me leave this place. And I have no desire to spend time in hell while I'm still, in theory, alive.”

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Book:The Finer Points of Becoming Machine
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