“
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!
— Ghosts
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!
Where entity and quiddity,The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly.
Behind every man now alive stand 30 ghosts, for that is the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living.
When thoroughly reliable people encounter ghosts, their stories are difficult to explain away.
So many ghosts, and forms of fright,I will go down to the chapel and pray.
Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire,And airy tongues that syllable men's names.
For spirits when they pleaseCan either sex assume, or both.
Whence and what are thou, execrable shape?
All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,Assume, as likes them best, condense or rare.
What beck'ning ghost along the moonlight shadeInvites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted deadDid squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave.To tell us this.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.But will they come when you do call for them?
What are these,And yet are on 't?
Is this a dagger which I see before me,The handle toward my hand?
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
Now it is the time of night,In the church-way paths to glide.
Ghosts don’t do things to you. Ghosts make you do unspeakable things to yourself.
I kept on ignoring him. The dead are only ghosts, after all.
All on my own I’m not alive, I’m not alive enough.
Here’s to the ghost Screaming down at us
Who gather round, and wonder at the taleEvanishes at crowing of the cock.
The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she.
The unexpected disappearance of Mr. Canning from the scene, followed by the transient and embarrassed phantom of Lord Goderich. (Quoted, "He flits across the stage a transient and embarrassed phantom.")
Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts.
My people too were scared with eerie sounds,Her, bending by the cradle of her babe.
I look for ghosts; but none will force Between the living and the dead.
