When good Americans die, they go to Paris,' the ghost said, after taking a drag on a small cigarette. But you’re not dead. I suppose the question must be, are you good?
Do you think there's such a thing as a ghost who masquerades as a person? Do you believe that there are people whose bodies are still alive here on earth but whose souls are already in hell?
His steps slowed to a stop. “Why?” His voice was a ghost in the quiet. “Why give me your trust when you know it is such an easy thing to break?” “Perhaps the easy giving of it will make it harder to break
They thought he was scared all the time because he was a coward. The truth was, only he could see the world clearly enough to know how truly scary it was.
As if we'd fall for an obvious trap like that," said Happy. "We're not going to fall for an obvious trap like that, are we? Oh shit, we are. I want to go home.
I felt a wave of longing roll out of me, but not the way it usually did, diffuse and sad. This was hopeful, as though it had been coaxed out by a whispered promise.
You see? This is why you don't get mixed up in people's lives. Because the living are messy and complicated, and things end up going to hell one way or another, every time.
If I hadn’t stopped to thank the ghoul, I might not be covered in rotting, slimy, dead guy. I shook my head ruefully and continued walking. No good deed goes unpunished.
...nobody can protect anybody else from vileness. Or from pain. All you can do is not let it break you in half and keep on going until you get to the other side.
Most travel, and certainly the rewarding kind, involves depending on the kindness of strangers, putting yourself into the hands of people you don't know and trusting them with your life.
Myrnin turned away to pick up his Ben Franklin spectacles, balanced them on his nose, and looked over them to say, "Don't do drugs. I feel I ought to say that.
She can go with us to the lab and keep Myrnin pinned down while we pull the plug, if he's not... you know, better." "Define BETTER with that guy." "Not all fangs and raaaaar.
I think so,” she [Claire] said. “Just watch your back, okay?” “Nah, Michael’s got mine.” He [Shane] looked straight into her eyes. “I’ve got yours.
I never meant it," he was saying. "Never meant it to happen. Can't stand it, seeing her suffer. Must do something, do something... What do I do? What can I do...?
Whatever, crazy chick who maybe lives here and maybe also breaks into Michael's house when they're all gone. I'm out. Have a nice delusion. -Shayne
I'm worried he's going to ... do something crazy." "He lives in a hole in the ground, dresses funny, and occasionally eats his assistants," Eve said. "Define crazy.
Foreknowledge cannot be gotten from ghosts and spirits, cannot be had by analogy, cannot be found out by calculation. It must be obtained from people, people who know the conditions of the enemy.
We are merely ghost flowers under the shade of the moon Many shades of secret sorrows blanket our eyes We spend our lives and our souls Searching- Longing- Waiting- For a little light to shine and heal our broken halo’s
Ghosts... they are the completions of the deads intended gestures, there unfinished plans still hanging in the air - something like when you forgot one thing and so you pantomime the motion.
It was as if the city itself was preparing for some impending catastrophe. There had always been talks of ghost and darkness here, even in his boyhood, and now that darkness seems to be seeping from the stones and timbers as much as it was descending...
Normally ghosts didn't scare him. (Assuming, of course, Gaea hadn't encased them in shells of stone and turned them into killing machines. That had been a new one for him.)
