Haunted Sonnet Quotes

Tisiphone: the avenger (voice of revenge)
"Women guardians of the natural order"

Think of the morning dream with ghosts
Why draw the widow's card and wear the gorgeous

Queen of Swords crown ~ Hoa Nguyen

Gray froze as Miss Turner emerged from the hold. For weeks, she'd plagued him-by day, he suffered glimpses of her beauty; by night, he was haunted by memories of her touch. And just when he thought he'd finally wrangled his desire into submission, today she'd ruined everything.
She'd gone and changed her dress.
Gone was that serge shroud, that forbidding thundercloud of a garment that had loomed in his peripheral vision for weeks. Today, she wore a cap-sleeved frock of sprigged muslin.
She stepped onto the deck, smiling face tilted to the wind. A flower opening to greet the sun. She bobbed on her toes, as though resisting the urge to make a girlish twirl. The pale, sheer fabric of her dress billowed and swelled in the breeze, pulling the undulating contour of calf, thigh, hip into relief.
Gray thought she just might be the loveliest creature he'd ever seen.
Therefore, he knew he ought to look away.
He did, for a moment. He made an honest attempt to scan the horizon for clouds. He checked the hour on his pocket watch, wound the small knob one, two, three, four times. He wiped a bit of salt spray from its glass face. He thought of England. And France, and Cuba, and Spain. He remembered his brother, his sister, and his singularly ugly Aunt Rosamond, on whom he hadn't clapped eyes in decades. And all this Herculean effort resulting in nothing but a fine sheen of sweat on his brow and precisely thirty seconds' delay in the inevitable.
He looked a ~ Tessa Dare

Even the West has known the architecture of empty space, whose object, for thousands of years, has been less to construct divine houses, than to create sacred places, to seize upon mystery and to immerse man in it-whether by raising the cyclopean pedestal that surrounds him with stars, or by hollowing out the sanctuary that wraps him in haunted night. ~ Andre Malraux

The sidewalks were haunted by dust
ghosts all night as the furnace wind summoned them up,
swung them about, and gentled them down in a warm spice on
the lawns. Trees, shaken by the footsteps of late-night strol-
lers, sifted avalanches of dust. From midnight on, it seemed a
volcano beyond the town was showering red-hot ashes every-
where, crusting slumberless night watchmen and irritable
dogs. Each house was a yellow attic smoldering with spon-
taneous combustion at three in the morning.

Dawn, then, was a time where things changed element for
element. Air ran like hot spring waters nowhere, with no
sound. The lake was a quantity of steam very still and deep
over valleys of fish and sand held baking under its serene
vapors. Tar was poured licorice in the streets, red bricks were
brass and gold, roof tops were paved with bronze. The high-
tension wires were lightning held forever, blazing, a threat
above the unslept houses.
The cicadas sang louder and yet louder.
The sun did not rise, it overflowed. ~ Ray Bradbury

She cursed under her breath. Eddie watched the EBs react, the younger ones recoiling with silent gasps.
"Better watch your language. There are children present. I think you're freaking them out."
"Sure, I'm the one freaking them out. ~ Hunter Shea

When I was filming 'The Haunting Hour', my co-stars Emily Osment, Brittany Curran and I paid a visit to a haunted house - all dressed up as vampires! We really confused the workers. ~ Cody Linley

I could hear my dad honking his horn impatiently down on the street. "I... uh... used to live in your house," I found myself answering.
And then I turned and ran full speed down to the street. ~ R.L. Stine

The seed haunted by the sun never fails to find its way between the stones in the ground. And the pure logician, if no sun draws him forth, remains entangled in his logic. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

Like most people, my views about ghosts and haunted places were traditional while growing up. I believed ghosts were human spirits. Not that I talked to many people about the subject or my experiences. I assumed people would think I was weird. ~ Kristine McGuire

But the recurrent ambiguity of the American tale of the supernatural reveals both a fascination
with the possibility of numinous experience and a perplexity about whether there was, in fact, anything numinous to be experienced. Writers often delighted in leading readers into, but not out of, the haunted dusk of the borderland. ~ Howard Kerr

From the 18th to the 20th Century it was the boast that human thought had at least come out of the dark woods of medieval superstition, credulity and obscurantism, into the sunshine of clear thinking where the dry breezes of skepticism blow unhindered. 'Fell the trees and level the hills that still obscure the view; let the winds drive off the mist' - they said. But now that much of this work has been accomplished it is beginning to be felt that there is no shade in all these flat plains of perpetual parching wind and sunshine, and through this desert no flooding Nile flows. There are those who, secretly, would like, if they could, to reconstruct the dim, wet, haunted woods before they die of thirst. ~ Nanamoli Thera

I should walk away again. But "should" could go fuck itself. Giving her up the first time nearly killed me, and hurting her again wasn't an option.
None of it would matter if I couldn't convince her to give me another chance. While she said she hated me, her body told another story. Her pulse had raced, and the scent of her arousal haunted me.
Plus, she kissed me back. ~ Lisa Kessler

I'd had a key to the marina's locks at one time, but I'd lost track of it when I got shot, drowned, died, got revived into a coma, haunted my friends for a while, and then woke up in Mab's bed.
(My life. Hell's bells.) ~ Jim Butcher

The most perfect solitude must entail the absence of all beings, but it must also tremble with the light of life. For example, a perfect solitude may find itself haunted by lives born of the imagination, characters lying on shelves in rows of books, or accompanied by figures waiting in dreams. The perfect solitude pushes one to sense the pulse of solitude itself; for example, a perfect solitude may be marked with the beat of one's heart. ~ Meia Geddes

D. felt a little envious of him as he stood there in the yard among the cars - he looked established. Five hundred years of inbreeding had produced him, set him against an exact background, made him at home, and at the same a time haunted - by the vices of ancestors and the tastes of the past. ~ Graham Greene

Haunted house fictions play upon the complex fears and concerns about domestic issues that women have long grappled with. ~ Lisa Kröger

I got lost in the night, without the light
of your eyelids, and when the night surrounded me
I was born again: I was the owner of my own darkness. ~ Pablo Neruda

[Professor Kinnerton] Has the fact that we have about 97 percent of our DNA in common with chimpanzees escaped you? How can you still argue we are special and have a soul when we are so obviously animals? ... [Al Gleeson] With due respect sir, the 97 percent is precisely the problem. Are chimpanzees 97 percent of the way to splitting the atom? Are they 97 percent of the way to writing their first sonnet? Someone tittered at the back of the room. Are bonobos 97 percent of the way to putting the first bonobo on the moon? Is there an orangutan somewhere with a simian Mona Lisa 97 percent finished? ~ Peter Kazmaier

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. ~ Donna Tartt

Justice Denied
Thousands of women, probably more
I cannot reach them behind justice doors
Many stay silent, barred just like me.
Haunted by demons, faces unseen.
Still by the hundreds, they continue to serve
Duty and country, active and reserve.
Thankless, forgotten through America's wars
Scarred like their brethren, treated as foes.
Volunteered to go to the shores.
Died like the others, shamed to the core.
Where is the dignity, long since denied?
Lost in the White House of Justice Denied
Women in service since beginning of time
Often they're treated like victims in crime.
Where is their voice, silence throughout the years?
It's dead in the Senate and House, with their tears! ~ Diane Chamberlain

Above me soft footsteps, the sound through the ceiling of a teenager haunted by a door to the night. My cousin Maybonne lights up a Salem, blows ghosts to the darkness, be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. ~ Lynda Barry

He understood that the ghost existed first and foremost within his own head. That maybe ghosts always haunted minds, not places. ~ Joe Hill

The Line makes itself felt,
thro' some Energy unknown, ever are we haunted by that Edge so precise, so near. In the Dark, one never knows. Of course I am seeking the Warrior Path, imagining myself as heroick Scout. We all feel it Looming, even when we're awake, out there ahead someplace, the way you come to feel a River or Creek ahead, before anything else,
sound, sky, vegetation,
may have announced it. Perhaps 'tis the very deep sub-audible Hum of its Traffic that we feel with an equally undiscover'd part of the Sensorium,
does it lie but over the next Ridge? the one after that? We have mileage Estimates from Rangers and Runners, yet for as long as its Distance from the Post Mark'd West remains unmeasur'd, nor is yet recorded as Fact, may it remain, a-shimmer, among the few final Pages of its Life as Fiction. ~ Thomas Pynchon

I was far away from home, haunted & tired with travel, in a room I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, the creak of the old wood, footsteps upstairs & all the sad sounds.
I looked at the cracked high ceiling & really didn't know who I was for about 15 strange seconds.
I wasn't scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger & my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.
I was halfway at the dividing line between the East of my youth & the West of my future. ~ Jack Kerouac

He had yet to fall in love to the degree that he felt he was capable of falling, had never written villanelles or declaration veiled in careful metaphor, nor sold his blood plasma to buy champagne or jonquils, nor haunted a mailbox or a phone booth or a certain café, nor screamed his beloved's name in the streets at three in the morning, heedless of the neighbors. ~ Michael Chabon

A vision of the Shining One swirling into our world, a monstrous, glorious flaming pillar of incarnate, eternal Evil--of people passing through its radiant embrace into that hideous, unearthly life-in-death which I had seen enfold the sacrifices--of armies trembling into dancing atoms of diamond dust beneath the green ray's rhythmic death--of cities rushing out into space upon the wings of that other demoniac force which Olaf had watched at work--of a haunted world through which the assassins of the Dweller's court stole invisible, carrying with them every passion of hell--of the rallying to the Thing of every sinister soul and of the weak and the unbalanced, mystics and carnivores of humanity alike; for well I knew that, once loosed, not any nation could hold the devil-god for long and that swiftly its blight would spread! ~ A. Merritt

I've been in the presence of a ghost, but I've never actually seen a ghost. I don't know if I actually believe in ghosts, to be honest with you. I don't think they exist, but I think they have more to do with energy. People say if someone died in a place it would be haunted, well people have died everywhere, so the whole entire world is haunted. ~ Jeordie White

Man, your head is haunted; you have wheels in your head! You imagine great things, and depict to yourself a whole world of gods that has an existence for you, a spirit-realm to which you suppose yourself to be called, an ideal that beckons to you. You have a fixed idea! ~ Max Stirner

But thy eternal summer shall not fade. ~ William Shakespeare

The inventor ... looks upon the world and is not contented with things as they are. He wants to improve whatever he sees, he wants to benefit the world; he is haunted by an idea. ~ Alexander Graham Bell

A Lancashire Weaver

This place might be haunted
the ghost hunter said
'Midst the dust and the grime
walk the feet of the dead.
The machines now stand idle
Looms clatter no more
There's a stack of old bobbins
piled up by the door.
I remember my Mam
she worked here, so she said
A Lancashire weaver
but now she is dead
Along with this mill
and along with the dreams
of working mill lasses
and their jobs, so it seems
We once wove the best
cotton cloth in the world
But now that's all gone
on the scrap heap been hurled
The clatter of clogs
on the old cobbled street
the humdrum staccato
from thousands of feet.
Tough work and much hardship
and many a care
Folks they got by
for brass, it was rare
but still we had pride
By Christ, did we ever!
Will it ever come back
The answer is NEVER
This place might be haunted
the ghost hunter said
'Midst the dust and the grime
walk the feet of the dead.
I'm glad that my Mam
never saw it this way
Out in all weathers
came here every day
When this closed down
she had already died
Perhaps just as well
She'd have bloody well cried. ~ David Hayes

I'm being haunted by Gaspar the Friendly Ghost. ~ Michael Phillip Cash

our baptism proclaims that we need not be haunted by death, since, in a sense, we have already died. In the book of Romans, Paul says, Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. (Rom. 6:3-4) ~ Ronald P. Byars

Also there is a twist to the story as I'm being haunted and driven crazy, attacked and so on. All I seem to do is run and scream and cry in every scene. ~ Bo Derek

Then it happened. One night as the rain beat on the slanted kitchen roof a great spirit slipped forever into my life. I held his book in my hands and trembled as he spoke to me of man and the world, of love and wisdom, pain and guilt, and I knew I would never be the same. His name was Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky. He knew more of fathers and sons than any man in the world, and of brothers and sisters, priests and rogues, guilt and innocence. Dostoyevsky changed me. The Idiot, The Possessed, The Brothers Karamazov, The Gambler. He turned me inside out. I found I could breathe, could see invisible horizons. The hatred for my father melted. I loved my father, poor, suffering, haunted wretch. I loved my mother too, and all my family. It was time to become a man, to leave San Elmo and go out into the world. I wanted to think and feel like Dostoyevsky. I wanted to write.
The week before I left town the draft board summoned me to Sacramento for my physical. I was glad to go. Someone other than myself could make my decisions. The army turned me down. I had asthma. Inflammation of the bronchial tubes.
"That's nothing. I've always had it."
"See your doctor."
I got the needed information from a medical book at the public library. Was asthma fatal? It could be. And so be it. Dostoyevsky had epilepsy, I had asthma. To write well a man must have a fatal ailment. It was the only way to deal with the presence of death. ~ John Fante

[Genre is] like working in any form - in poetry, for example. When you work in form, be it a sonnet or villanelle or whatever, the form is there and you have to fill it. And you have to find how to make that form say what you want to say. But what you find, always - I think any poet who's worked in form will agree with me - is that the form leads you to what you want to say. It is wonderful and mysterious. ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

My mind is like the valley - this vast barren waste. Car lots. Malls. Tract homes. I know there are other worlds beyond it - of canyons full of coyote and monarch butterflies, squirrels, bunnies, purple and yellow wildflowers, of magical boulevards lined with palatial movie theaters and movie-star haunted mansions, of parks and palms and palisades, especially, especially of the ocean, where it all ends and everything begins. I know the rest is out there but from where I sit in my head it's like being on the bottom of a hot sunken pit - you can't see anything else around you no matter how hard you try. ~ Francesca Lia Block

There's nothing more haunted than a house. Doesn't matter where, how grand, how small, made of brick, straw, stone, or gingerbread, whether perfectly cared for or blown to bits. Beings gather there. Every house is a planet, exerting gravitational pull. Every house is in a dark wood, every house has a wicked witch in it, doesn't matter if she looks like a fairy godmother ... ~ Jane Smiley

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. ~ Ashleigh Z.

She'll tell you this house is haunted, but I believe the truth of the matter is that people get haunted. Not places.' - Will Laughlin ~ Brandy Heineman