Best 105 quotes in «haunted quotes» category

Yaicha is named after a song by some group from the last century called the Pousette-Dart Band. Something about a girl, a candle in the falling rain shining amidst the pain. I kind of surprise myself when I can picture Yaicha as that candle. My father named Yaicha after the "haunting melody." I wonder if he ever listened to the lyrics.

Yes, this was a haunted place. He had read about certain materials absorbing the sounds of their surroundings like divots in a vinyl recording, and now, as the sun started to dip below the horizon, this concept chilled him more than the creeping cold. Put a needle to the mortar of these walls and listen to the screams. His own would be among them.

You make me crazy in all the best ways, woman. You always have. I’m only me when I’m with you.

You’re off the bed again,” he growled at me, in a deep sexy tone that went right to the ache between my thighs that had been growing since he’d knocked on my door. “It’s your fault,” I told him, leaning back to look in his eyes. “I can’t keep my hands off of you. I don’t want to. I’ve waited forever to touch you like this.

You're crazy,' I say. 'Aye,' Logan says. 'Crazy about you.

You've never heard of the Truscott Curse?" Asked the old lady, slowly rocking her body from side to side as if she were about to start dancing. Spanelli looked at her puzzlingly. "The Truscott Curse? I don't understand what you mean." "The curse girl. Don't you know that every child who's ever lived in that house has disappeared?

98% of reported hauntings have a natural and mundane explanation … it is the other 2% that have interested me for over 40 years.

As she opened it, Latra jumped out from the side, ripping at Aijayy’s face, blood pouring out, some running into her mouth. Her death became a certainty in her mind, and she abandoned herself to it, dropping to the ground, everything going fuzzy. Latra jumped at her like an animal possessed, high in the air, falling. Benshi Phased through the ceiling, grabbing the chandelier on his way down and landing on top of Latra. The sorceress rose up, holding Benshi by the throat. He looked surprisingly calm.

A moment of silence settled over all of them. Then Velva broke it. “We are the hunter and the haunter, the haunted and hunted.…” “But for what purpose?” asked Sir Sun. “It is all for the same purpose, Timothy.  The empty that wish to be full.

And isn't it better to be haunted by ghosts of the living rather than the dead?

Are you a pirate?

Although terrifying, the evil ghost will probably pose no real danger to you or your family. On the other hand, if you have a demonic infestation, your entire household is in very real danger. A demonic entity will not usually confront you or induce you to flee the home. Because, unlike the evil ghost, the demon does not actually want you to leave. On the contrary, it wants you to stick around so it can destroy your life and sully your soul from the inside.

And yet is not mankind itself, pushing on its blind way, driven by a dream of its greatness and its power upon the dark paths of excessive cruelty and of excessive devotion. And what is the pursuit of truth, after all?

But walking through it all was one thing; walking away, unfortunately, has proved to be quite another, and though once I thought I had left that ravine forever on an April afternoon long ago, now I am not so sure. Now the searchers have departed, and life has grown quiet around me, I have come to realize that while for years I might have imagined myself to be somewhere else, in reality I have been there all the time: up at the top by the muddy wheel-ruts in the new grass, where the sky is dark over the shivering apple blossoms and the first chill of the snow that will fall that night is already in the air.

Because she—you hear her—she's calling, and is always going to call, and it's better both of us die by the dagger without anyone seeing us, Orestes, and die a fit death.

Calm down. Ghosts don’t ring the doorbell.

Every town has ‘THAT house’: the one that once held dark secrets. You know the house… the one no one will purchase? The one whose walls have seen blood? The one that even birds avoid, and the darkened windows resemble empty eye sockets? There are furtive, yet insistent, whispers about ‘that’ house, murmurs that perhaps the house is best left alone, lest the dark stain left upon that abode’s history seep into our own present-day.

Darkness lingered in those blue eyes, like ghosts haunted him despite only the two of them standing in this cabin.

Death never plays by the rules. And I think that's why we, as mortal beings, fear it so much. Not because it's an inevitability, but because it's so unpredictable. We all know it's coming for us. We can just never be sure exactly when.

Despite the way she rallied, the haunted look in her eyes was enough to break him, as lost and lonely as an abandoned child’s.

Charleston is an extraordinary place. There is a deep connection between the residents and nearly three hundred and fifty years of history, and those ties between daily life and the distant past are strengthened by the occasional glimpse beyond the veil.

experiencing this much fear made it impossible to continue to be afraid of ending relationships with people that were unhealthy- as if there was no more room inside me to be afraid. The fear made me stronger.

Ghosts don’t stay buried when they’re laced in gold.

Ghost Hampton" took me years to write -- but it won't take you that long to read!

Have you come to return my pussy?” I shook my head, sure the reception must be bad. “Huh?” “My cat. You stole my cat yesterday. Have you come to return him?

Godless, 'we had no war.' Until God set us to fight each other, for the rest of human history.

Haunted by the unhappiness that appeared like an ugly creature to live in their home

He had been haunted his whole life by a mild case of claustrophobia—the vestige of a childhood incident he had never quite overcome. Langdon’s aversion to closed spaces was by no means debilitating, but it had always frustrated him. It manifested itself in subtle ways. He avoided enclosed sports like racquetball or squash, and he had gladly paid a small fortune for his airy, high-ceilinged Victorian home even though economical faculty housing was readily available. Langdon had often suspected his attraction to the art world as a young boy sprang from his love of museums’ wide open spaces.

He haunted my heart, silently. Like a murmur, and a shadow; that could only be heard by myself. Alone, in a dark room.

He was so big he made my sofa seem more like a loveseat. He was so at ease with himself and his body that I found it hard to reconcile him with the awkward teenager that had stolen my heart. He was so fucking beautiful, it took my breath away.

He's dead, but he still chases me. He wrote fear into my mind with ink fashioned from his own blood. His words are stamped upon the shadows, gnats swarming about my shoulders.

He stood in a room, looking around, seeing thousands of himself. He banged the walls made of mirrors, but they wouldn't break. Thier laugh filled his heart and with fear, he curled up and sat there. And then She came out of nowhere and wrapped her arm around him. She held his hand, together they got up and walked towards a wall. He raised his head and looked at the reflections, but all he saw there was only him. She turned and smiled at him and touched the wall. It cracked and shattered into pieces. She inside him broke all the walls around him. He was free, he was not held and haunted by his reflections anymore.

He stroked her back and kept a fierce grip on her like she’d fade away into one of the thousands of ghosts in this cemetery.

I didn't sleep well last night because one of my ghosts came back, haunting with his presence, and when I woke up, the others weren't here, haunting with their memory.

His ghost comes back to be remembered. If he can’t be in this life, he procures a way to stay in orbit, and in that way, is never forgotten.

I am stupid, am I not? What more can I want? If you ask them who is brave--who is true--who is just--who is it they would trust with their lives?--they would say, Tuan Jim. And yet they can never know the real, real truth....

I can't be free of this place, this haunted torture chamber echoing with thousands of years of blighted history. I can paint the walls, but I can't scrape the malice from the mortar. I can burn the curtains, but the blood splattered upon them only transitions to ash that stains the hearth.

I just can’t do it anymore. It’s too painful. It doesn’t mean I’m over you, it means I’m not going to waste the rest of my life being haunted by your memory.

I dream the scent of my mother's lipstick has come back to haunt me— like an oil pastel marking my dreary, dramatic heart.

If your spirit is persistently harmless or if it has shown itself to you, in a non-threatening way, then you most definitely have a ghost. The ghost can be frightening, by its very nature. But the ghost will never intentionally frighten you. They will be there for three reasons: 1. They used to live there and are attached to the location 2. They are trying to communicate something to the living or 3. They are protective of somebody who lives in the house and so they are “standing guard” so to speak, over the loved one.

I have been both a ghost and haunted in the city I love.

I have only to glance over my shoulder for all those years to drop away and I see it behind me again, the ravine, rising all green and black through the saplings, a picture that will never leave me.

I first witnessed the paranormal at the tender age of eight. This experience unlocked a doorway to a world full of unexplained mysteries, miraculous insights, and terrifying ghostly visits that have spanned a lifetime. Join me as I explore these stories…one book at a time.” ~L. Sydney Fisher

If we can forgive what has been done to us . . . If we can forgive what we've done to others . . . If we can leave all of our stories behind. Our being villians or victims. Only then can we maybe rescue the world. But we still sit here, waiting to be saved. While we're still victims, hoping to be discovered while we suffer.

..., imagine a loamy earth that starts with genocide, then adds a mix of further disease, wars, hurricanes, murder, great fires, dueling, insurrection and slavery, just to name a few of the many instances of tragedy. What dark seed would take root in such a disturbed and twisted soil?

I now know how your anger came from skeletons that rattled in your heart and you couldn't escape them.

I mean, what if you don’t get over him? What if you just learn how to get on without him? People who’ve been in love have that haunted look in their eyes. It’s like a piece of them is unattainable, forever held back and protected at all cost.

It waited for her. Standing resolute in the moonlight, it had stood for a hundred years. Yet it waited just for her. Shadows passed across the moon, a cool breeze ruffled the leaves around it. Yet still it waited for her. Ancient tombs glowed in shimmery moonlight, row upon row of cold silent witnesses.

It took a pair of ghosts to open my eyes.

It's scary how you can be haunted by someone who is still alive.