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Ghosts Quotes

Browse 555 quotes about Ghosts.

Ghosts Quotes

“È bello come stare qui? Certo, è bello. Come l’onda, ti prende e ti porta con sé, ti travolge, ti stringe nelle sue spire, ti sommerge, e non sai più farne a meno. Come la vita? Come svegliarsi al mattino e sentire che hai un corpo da nutrire, come respirare, Jay, è bello come respirare? Chiusi gli occhi e cercai di riportare alla mente la sensazione che provavo quando, dopo essere stato disarcionato, riemergevo senza fiato e pieno di dolori per gli schiaffi presi dalle onde. Ciò che avevo sentito facendo sesso somigliava più al trionfo di pochi istanti, sopra un’onda buona, ma troppo docile per dare tempo all’adrenalina di percorrerti tutto. Forse… forse per amore. Per amore, forse, avrebbe potuto essere bello come svegliarsi al mattino e sentire che hai un corpo da nutrire. Per amore avrebbe potuto essere come il sollievo quando finalmente si ritrova il pelo dell’acqua dopo il naufragio. Ma non mi era mai accaduto per amore. Si girò e mi guardò corrucciato. Fu un solo istante, poi riportò lo sguardo alla strada. Jay, se si chiama “fare l’amore”, come puoi farlo senza amore?”

RomanceFantasyParanormalGhostsNew AdultSurfMareOnde
Book:Meet you on the other side: Un luogo del cuore
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“He was not smiling. But neither was his look menacing. His close-cropped white hair gave him an almost regal appearance as he stared at me with a benign, slightly bemused expression as if he were intrigued by this strange white child who was howling like a banshee. By now I was sitting straight up in bed, the tears streaming copiously down my face, and as I screamed again he began to disappear. Starting with his feet he began to vanish a bit at a time: his lower legs disappeared, and then his thighs, and then his arms and torso until all that was left of him was his handsome face, that face now floating in the air without a body to sustain it, and his face was still wearing that benign, slightly bemused expression until, at last, his face was gone, too.”

SpiritualityParanormalNonfictionGhostsSupernaturalHauntings
Book:A Knock in the Attic
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“The Girl At The Lake by Stewart Stafford She stood at her post rigidly again, By the lakeside in a white dress, Staring sadly down into the water, Wind left hair and clothes unruffled. I waved and called out to her then, She looked up at me and through me, No recognition from her mourner's mask, She went back to staring at lapping water. Jumped in my car to check on her welfare, Driving over to her sole sentinel's mark, Nobody around, just ripples kissing the shore, Arriving home, I saw her at the water's edge. She plunged into the lake in plain sight of me, I dived in with my shoes on to save her, Not suicide, she tricked my life from me, "You can't leave now, darling," as I drowned. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

MysteryGhostGhostsGothicLakeMysterious WomanLakesideMysterious GirlWhat Lies BeneathLady In The Lake
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“See, even though Jesse's a ghost, and can walk through walls and disappear and reappear at will, he's still...well, there. To me, anyway. That's what makes me-and Father Dom-different from everybody else. We not only can see and talk to ghosts, but we can feel them too-just as if they were anybody else. Anybody alive, I mean. Because to me and Father Dom, ghosts are just like anyone else, with blood and guts and sweat and bad breath and whatever. The only real difference is that they kind of have this glow around them-an aura, I think it's called.”

GhostsSuze SimonSusannah SimonThe MediatorJesse De SilvaNinth KeyFather DominicFather Dom
Book:Ninth Key
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“You sure you don't want me to come over? We could make a snowman in the garden, or one in front of the hotel for the guests' arrival tomorrow. Or we could build snow forts and have a snowball fight. Surefire way to wear you out and make you sleepy. Then we could have cocoa with marshmallows on top. And I've been dying to have a piece of that seven-layer chocolate cake. I can't quit thinking about it.”

Paranormal RomanceGhostsShifter RomanceChristmas RomanceWolf ShiftersHoliday RomanceHaunted Hotel
Book:A Silver Wolf Christmas
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“What Walks By Night by Stewart Stafford Jealous looks at earthly prowl, Or unbound by fleshly form, Seen under darkness’ cowl: Agitated ghost or hellspawn? Violence torments it from sleep, Or trapped inside by exorcist bait, Hexed glances corrupted, weep, As redress or perdition state. Jinxed trails of ashen flame, Unheard wails for living aid, Or gatecrash our human frame, As night and sunrise trade. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

DevilGhostDemonPossessedGhostsDemonsHamletExorcistRestless SpiritsDemonic Possession
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Pet Haunts by Stewart Stafford Ghosts pinned my cat to the wall, So I reached out to pick him up, In the strangest flip to our world, They then turned him into a pup! Spectres floated my pet downstairs, Confused as he hovered on a step, Species-fluid doppelgänger mirage, Without moans or chains to schlepp. Dare we dig into this canine tale, Let me lick myself clean and think, Corporeal companions, some not, We all link up as one past the brink. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

PoetryGhostsDogsCatsDark HumorCats HumorSurreal PoetryDogs HumourCats Vs DogsTransition Spirituality
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“It is to my comfort that I entertain stories of ghosts, of discarnate spirits, of angels, of relatives returning to this realm to speak to us... speaking to us in our thoughts and in our dreams. I take comfort in these because no matter how advanced we humans may be... no matter how civilized, how cultured, there will always be some aspect of the spiritual realm that not even the greatest living genius can truly comprehend or explain.”

GodSpiritualityParanormalGhostsAngelsClairvoyantUnknowableEsotericaDiscarnate SpiritsGreat Mystery
Book:Wrestling with Angels: An Anthology of Prose & Poetry 1962-2016 Revised
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“...within a few weeks, the young minister Reverend George York , had expelled the family, accusing them of blasphemy and devil worship. their neighbors suspected the some of them feared the Foxes were in league with the devil, and must have encouraged their daughters to join them by engaging in some kid of 'witchcraft.”

GhostsWitchcraftBlasphemySpiritualismDevil WorshipSuspicions
Book:The Reluctant Spiritualist: A Life of Maggie Fox
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“There is a time in the life of every boy when he for the first time takes the backward view of life. Perhaps that is the moment when he crosses the line into manhood. The boy is walking through the street of his town. He is thinking of the future and of the figure he will cut in the world. Ambitions and regrets awake within him. Suddenly something happens; he stops under a tree and waits as for a voice calling his name. Ghosts of old things creep into his consciousness; the voices outside of himself whisper a message concerning the limitations of life. From being quite sure of himself and his future he becomes not at all sure. If he be an imaginative boy a door is torn open and for the first time he looks out upon the world, seeing, as though they marched in procession before him, the countless figures of men who before his time have come out of nothingness into the world, lived their lives and again disappeared into nothingness. The sadness of sophistication has come to the boy. With a little gasp he sees himself as merely a leaf blown by the wind through the streets of his village. He knows that in spite of all the stout talk of his fellows he must live and die in uncertainty, a thing blown by the winds, a thing destined like corn to wilt in the sun.”

LifeTimeRegretFutureAmbitionUncertaintyNothingnessGhostsManhoodSophistication
Book:Winesburg, Ohio: A Group of Tales of Ohio Small Town Life
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“Nothing is a masterpiece - a real masterpiece - till it's about two hundred years old. A picture is like a tree or a church, you've got to let it grow into a masterpiece. Same with a poem or a new religion. They begin as a lot of funny words. Nobody knows whether they're all nonsense or a gift from heaven. And the only people who think anything of 'em are a lot of cranks or crackpots, or poor devils who don't know enough to know anything. Look at Christianity. Just a lot of floating seeds to start with, all sorts of seeds. It was a long time before one of them grew into a tree big enough to kill the rest and keep the rain off. And it's only when the tree has been cut into planks and built into a house and the house has got pretty old and about fifty generations of ordinary lumpheads who don't know a work of art from a public convenience, have been knocking nails in the kitchen beams to hang hams on, and screwing hooks in the walls for whips and guns and photographs and calendars and measuring the children on the window frames and chopping out a new cupboard under the stairs to keep the cheese and murdering their wives in the back room and burying them under the cellar flags, that it begins even to feel like a religion. And when the whole place is full of dry rot and ghosts and old bones and the shelves are breaking down with old wormy books that no one could read if they tried, and the attic floors are bulging through the servants' ceilings with old trunks and top-boots and gasoliers and dressmaker's dummies and ball frocks and dolls-houses and pony saddles and blunderbusses and parrot cages and uniforms and love letters and jugs without handles and bridal pots decorated with forget-me-nots and a piece out at the bottom, that it grows into a real old faith, a masterpiece which people can really get something out of, each for himself. And then, of course, everybody keeps on saying that it ought to be pulled down at once, because it's an insanitary nuisance.”

ArtReligionChristianitySeedsPoemsNonsenseGhostsMasterpieceLove LettersCrackpotsGifts From HeavenCranksBlunderbussesDry RotInsanitary NuisancesJugs Without HandlesOld BonesParrot Cages
Book:THE HORSE'S MOUTH
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“That’s right, isn’t it?” Harry urged him. “You died, but I’m talking to you. . . . You can walk around Hogwarts and everything, can’t you?” “Yes,” said Nearly Headless Nick quietly, “I walk and talk, yes.” “So you came back, didn’t you?” said Harry urgently. “People can come back, right? As ghosts. They don’t have to disappear completely. Well?” he added impatiently, when Nick continued to say nothing. Nearly Headless Nick hesitated, then said, “Not everyone can come back as a ghost.” “What d’you mean?” said Harry quickly. “Only . . . only wizards.” “Oh,” said Harry, and he almost laughed with relief. “Well, that’s okay then, the person I’m asking about is a wizard. So he can come back, right?” Nick turned away from the window and looked mournfully at Harry. “He won’t come back.” “Who?” “Sirius Black.” said Nick. “But you did!” said Harry angrily. “You came back — you’re dead and you didn’t disappear —” “Wizards can leave an imprint of themselves upon the earth, to walk palely where their living selves once trod,” said Nick miserably. “But very few wizards choose that path.” “Why not?” said Harry. “Anyway — it doesn’t matter — Sirius won’t care if it’s unusual, he’ll come back, I know he will!” And so strong was his belief that Harry actually turned his head to check the door, sure, for a split second, that he was going to see Sirius, pearly white and transparent but beaming, walking through it toward him. “He will not come back,” repeated Nick quietly. “He will have . . . gone on.” “What d’you mean, ‘gone on’?” said Harry quickly. “Gone on where? Listen — what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn’t everyone come back? Why isn’t this place full of ghosts? Why — ?” “I cannot answer,” said Nick. “You’re dead, aren’t you?” said Harry exasperatedly. “Who can answer better than you?” “I was afraid of death,” said Nick. “I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn’t to have . . . Well, that is neither here nor there. . . . In fact, I am neither here nor there. . . .” He gave a small sad chuckle. “I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I choose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries —” “Don’t talk to me about that place!” said Harry fiercely. “I am sorry not to have been more help,” said Nick gently. “Well . . . well, do excuse me . . . the feast, you know . . .” And he left the room, leaving Harry there alone, gazing blankly at the wall through which Nick had disappeared. Harry felt almost as though he had lost his godfather all over again in losing the hope that he might be able to see or speak to him once more. He walked slowly and miserably back up through the empty castle, wondering whether he would ever feel cheerful again.”

DeathHarry PotterGhostsSad QuotesOrder Of The PhoenixHpSirius Black
Author:J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
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“How can you kill ghosts?' 'How should I know? The question doesn't usually arise!' 'You exorcise them, I think.' 'What? Jumpin' up and down? runnin' on the spot, that kind of thing?' The Dean had been ready for this. 'It's spelled with an "O", Archchancellor. I don't think one is expected to subject them to, er, physical exertion.' 'Should think not, man. We don't want a lot of healthy ghosts buzzin' around.”

HumorGhostsExorcise
Book:Reaper Man
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“The Basement Morgue by Stewart Stafford A reluctant errand to a basement morgue, No mortal knew what things lurked there, The elevator shuddered to a halt, opening, To a scattered boneyard of patient beds. Totem tchotchkes of a broken system, Dead corridors stretched left and right, A charged cold-sweat silence hung, As a flaccid desk stethoscope rattled. Buried my nose in my clipboard; Had to find their machine - now! A gurney wheeled itself past me, Disappearing into an anteroom. A hanging skeleton lunged at me— Spindly fingers choked me into blackness. Rousing to bright lights, blinding me; Icy steel drawers swallowed my screams. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

HorrorGhostsHospitalDark PoetryGothic FictionMedical ThrillerFlash FictionPsychological HorrorMorgueCreepypasta
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“No one will believe you,” Augustus told Vienna, throwing at her the full fury of the dragon in his heart, “because no one but you will see them –” And now, Vienna was terrified. “Father!” “Stop this!” was the king’s demand. But there was nothing to be done. The warlock set the curse. “Not just ghosts, but men, and the broken hearts of men. I curse you!” The royal family jumped to their feet. And the warlock disappeared. Vienna stared, unmoving for some time, before turning toward her father. “Don’t look at me,” the king said. “You’re the one who upset him.” –Vienna by E. L. Schoeman”

Love StoryCurseDragonsComing Of AgeYoung Adult FictionGhostsYoung Adult FantasyWarlocksLight NovelLove Story For True Love
Book:Vienna
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“It did not fear any god the people constructed from marble and stone. It thrived on demoralizing the frightened prayers of the weak that clung to sanctuary walls. Its intoxication found in the terror, the superstition, and worship that fed its merciless existence. The night sky provided the nocturnal shelter where it walked freely. The festivals of the changing seasons, reminding the mere mortals their time upon its fields were short. Brief in comparison to the thousands of years that it casually passed. It ruled the Earth, long before the human animals learned to conquer shelter and formulate abstract thoughts. In the cave paintings of the most primitive, they feared to paint its imagery on stone.”

HatredPossessionGhostsDemonsSuperstitionFairiesElvesMisanthropyMisanthropic
Book:Storms In the Distant North
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