Opera Ghost Quotes

A mask you ask? Optional I find!
Masks lend appeal of a mysterious kind. ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

True beauty lies not upon gilded veneers,
But found in the soul within. ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

When I opened my eyes, we were still surrounded by darkness. A lantern, standing on the ground, showed a bubbling well. The water splashing from the well disappeared, almost at once, under the floor on which I was lying, with my head on the knee of the man in the black cloak and the black mask. He was bathing my temples and his hands smelt of death. I tried to push them away and asked, 'Who are you? Where is the voice?' His only answer was a sigh. Suddenly, a hot breath passed over my face and I perceived a white shape, beside the man's black shape, in the darkness. The black shape lifted me on to the white shape, a glad neighing greeted my astounded ears and I murmured, 'Cesar!' The animal quivered. Raoul, I was lying half back on a saddle and I had recognized the white horse out of the PROFETA, which I had so often fed with sugar and sweets. I remembered that, one evening, there was a rumor in the theater that the horse had disappeared and that it had been stolen by the Opera ghost. I believed in the voice, but had never believed in the ghost. Now, however, I began to wonder, with a shiver, whether I was the ghost's prisoner. I called upon the voice to help me, for I should never have imagined that the voice and the ghost were one. You have heard about the Opera ghost, have you not, Raoul?"

"Yes, but tell me what happened when you were on the white horse of the Profeta?"

"I made no movement and let myself go. The black shape held me up, and I made no e ~ Gaston Leroux

Pity that child who was born near Rouen,
His only crime, to arrive deformed. ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

Ahahahahaha! Ahahahaha! Aahahaha!
BEWARE!!!!!
Yrs Sincerely,
The Opera Ghost ~ Terry Pratchett

If Erik existed and lived life in despair,
We wish him to know we are here and we care. ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

Monsieur, you must be mad!
Box Five can never be had
For money, love or the world ... ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

Have they known scorn like you
Five cellars down? ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

The Opera ghost really existed. He was not, as was long believed, a
creature of the imagination of the artists, the superstition of the
managers, or a product of the absurd and impressionable brains of the
young ladies of the ballet, their mothers, the box-keepers, the
cloak-room attendants or the concierge. Yes, he existed in flesh and
blood, although he assumed the complete appearance of a real phantom;
that is to say, of a spectral shade. ~ Gaston Leroux

Yet, beauty cannot be forgotten,
Eternal Wisdom can never die ... ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

We recognize the touch of the Opera ghost. ~ Gaston Leroux

Stay away from the underground lake I implore,
The Siren will see you are heard of no more. ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

Sublime wonders lie in store,
I am shown a regal residence;
a mighty kingdom, an empire
with more grandeur than before ... ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

THE OPERA GHOST REALLY EXISTED. ~ Gaston Leroux

I beg you, help me, in angelic charity,
Pray my efforts will reflect your mastery! ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

Has father from Heaven
Sent the Angel to me? ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

He's mine. I love him, and you can't have him, Christine. You can't have them both. ~ Sadie Montgomery

The light was frozen, dead, a ghost. ~ Aldous Huxley

He wanted to grind every Federation world into dust beneath his boot as his army blazed a trail of blood and corpses all the way to Seneca.

He wanted to storm their inner sanctum and fire a laser into the skull of their Field Marshal while their Chairman watched, then fire a laser into the skull of their Chairman.

He wanted to burn their bodies on a pyre and carry the ashes back to Deucali and spread them on his mother's consecrated grave. ~ G.S. Jennsen

Go forward without fear. Do not fear the future. Do not fear whatever is ahead of you. Take hold of that supernal gift of the Holy Ghost. Learn to be taught by it. Learn to call upon it. Learn to live by it. And the Spirit of the Lord will attend you, and you will be blessed as it was intended that we should all be blessed by this gift. ~ Boyd K. Packer

There must be something ghostly in the air of Christmas - something about the close, muggy atmosphere that draws up the ghosts, like the dampness of the summer rains brings out the frogs and snails. ~ Jerome K. Jerome

Children of her type contrive the purest philosophies. Ada had worked out her own little system. Hardly a week had elapsed since Van's arrival when he was found worthy of being initiated in her web of wisdom. An individual's life consisted of certain classified things: "real things" which were unfrequent and priceless, simply "things" which formed the routine stuff of life; and "ghost things," also called "fogs," such as fever, toothache, dreadful disappointments, and death. Three or more things occurring at the same time formed a "tower," or, if they came in immediate succession, they made a "bridge." "Real towers" and "real bridges" were the joys of life, and when the towers came in a series, one experienced supreme rapture; it almost never happened, though. In some circumstances, in a certain light, a neutral "thing" might look or even actually become "real" or else, conversely, it might coagulate into a fetid "fog." When the joy and the joyless happened to be intermixed, simultaneously or along the ramp of duration, one was confronted with "ruined towers" and "broken bridges. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

For if I should not believe all that is written by Historians, of the glorious acts of Alexander, or Caesar; I do not think the Ghost of Alexander, or Caesar, had any just cause to be offended; or any body else, but the Historian. If Livy say the Gods made once a Cow speak, and we believe it not; we distrust not God therein, but Livy. So that it is evident, that whatsoever we believe, upon no other reason, then what is drawn from authority of men only, and their writings; whether they be sent from God or not, is Faith in men only. ~ Thomas Hobbes

Though leaving him always to remark, portentously, on his probably having formed a relation, his probably enjoying a consciousness, unique in the experience of man. People enough, first and last, had been in terror of apparitions, but who had ever before so turned the tables and become himself, in the apparitional world, an incalculable terror? He might have found this sublime had he quite dared to think of it; but he didn't too much insist, truly, on that side of his privilege. ~ Henry James

I perform in opera houses in the centres of big cities. We live in 20 acres of forest. You need that space to recover and renew. ~ Sondra Radvanovsky

If I am the phantom, it is because man's hatred has made me so. If I am to be saved it is because your love redeems me. ~ Gaston Leroux

Why is man man? As long as we have had minds to think with, stars to ponder upon, dreams to disturb us, curiosity to inspire us, hours free for meditation, words to place our thoughts in order, the question like a restless ghost has prowled the cellars of our consciousness. ~ Robert Ardrey

A lot of performers don't want to leave the circuit, the European opera house circuit, partly because most singers don't sing many concerts, or at least not while they are in their prime. ~ Renee Fleming

Wasn't it his right to listen to opera, read poetry and adventure novels, go to Europe every couple of months for some reason or another, and drive his Porsche over the speed limit until he found out who he was? ~ Anne Rice

Yanking at my leg, straining every muscle, my customized Gray Ghost rebuilt as a chopper sparks and squeals.
My boot catches and I'm flipped. Sliding down E-70 Highway on leather, my gloves scrubbed by the tarmac. ~ Poppet

What I wasn't expecting was a ghost.
The ghost of Elodie Parris, to be exact, standing at my feet, glaring down at me, arms crossed. She was glowing so brightly that I squinted as I sat up. Elodie had been murdered by my great-grandmother nearly a year ago (long story), and thanks to a little shared magic between us before she died, her ghost was now tied to me.
"Oh, wow," I croaked. "I was just lying here thinking this night could not get any worse, and then it totally did. Huh. ~ Rachel Hawkins

Gabriel? Are you implying Gabriel had something to with Thompson's death?" Francesca sounded somewhere between outraged and amused. "You can't be serious, Brice."
"He crushed his hand, Francesca. Your Gabriel did that. Crushed his fist with one hand. I watched him do it and he wasn't even straining. I never even saw him come into the room. He was just there. There's something not quite right about him. His eyes. They aren't human. He's not human."
Francesca stared at him wide-eyed. "Not human? As in what? A phantom? A ghost that flies through the air? A gorilla? What? Maybe he lifts weights. Maybe he's strong because he lifts weights and his adrenaline was pumping. What are you saying? ~ Christine Feehan

Parental love is a matchless thing; if it weren't for that, most of us wouldn't have a pot to piss in, affectionately speaking. But even at its most irreplacable, it's still pretty cheap. Any ape loves their children; spiders lie still while theirs crawl around inside them, happy to let them eat their guts.
The only reason anybody unrelated is ever nice to anyone else, meanwhile, is as a sort of pre-emptive emotional strike - to prevent themselves from being treated as badly, potentially, as they might have treated other people. Which makes love only the lie two brains on spines tell each other, the lie that says: "You exist, because I love you. You exist, because you can see yourself in my eyes."
So we blunder from hope to hope, hollowed and searching. All of us equally incomplete.
And after all these years, still the sting comes, the liquid pressure in the chest and nose, the migraine-forerunner frown. Phantom pain. The ghost without the murder.
But what the fuck? That's all it is, ever. You want to be loved. You tell other people you love them, in order to trick them into loving you back. And after a while, it's true. You feel the pull, the ache. ~ Gemma Files

If you destroy your identity, if you cut all ties and fake your death, then what's left? Something without labels, something with money
and freedom. ~ Scott Kelly

Our White - Whites were a mixed crowd,including a well - known doctor,owner of a chateau near Versailles,an opera singer with an enormous belly and a chaplainbass;a homosexual architect with a beard,two night club porters,and a lawyer who sold Jewish refugees visas for a Central American Republic,which on arrival turned out to be non valid. ~ Arthur Koestler

Today I realized that I am nothing more than tomorrow's ghost. In a way, it robs my sense of self to know I'm always changing; at the same time, it provides incentive to have the best today possible so I can have a positive influence on tomorrow and, if need be, shake some sense into the living. (Samantha Green) ~ Riley Noehren

Did this mean every impossible fairy tale was grounded somewhere in absolute truth? Was there anything sane or normal at all, or was everything just magic and ghost stories? ~ Stephenie Meyer

For the love of God, unless you're prepping for Rigoletto at the Met, go easy on the eyeliner. ~ Cheryl Cory

Footnote: In 1998, a woman in Saline, Michigan received a patent for a Decorative Penile Wrap ... The patent included three pages of drawings, including a penis wearing a ghost outfit, another in the robes of the Grim Reaper, and one dressed up to look like a snowman. ~ Mary Roach

The vivid memory of the woods had blossomed into a visceral longing for the Ridge, so immediate that I felt the ghost of my vanished house rise around me, a cold mountain wind thrumming past its walls, and thought that, if I reached down, I could feel Adso's soft gray fur under my fingers. I swallowed, hard. ~ Diana Gabaldon

Note that both of these papers [the New York Post and the New York Daily News] are big sellers in a city whose residents like to go around saying they'd never live anyplace else on account of they'd miss the opera. ~ Dave Barry

As for us,Etienne was right.Our schools are only a twenty-minute transit ride away.He'll stay with me on the weekends, and we'll visit each other as often as possible during the week. We'll be together.We both got our Point Zero wishes-each other.He said he wished for me every time.He was wishing for me when I entered the tower.
"Mmm," I say.He's kissing my neck.
"That's it," Rashmi says. "I'm outta here.Enjoy your hormones."
Josh and Mer follow her exit,and we're alone.Just the way I like it.
"Ha!" Ettiene says. "Just the way I like it."
He pulls me onto his lap,and I wrap my legs around his waist.His lips are velvet soft,and we kiss until the streetlamps flicker on outside. Until the opera singer begins her evening routine. "I'm going to miss her," I say.
"I'll sing to you." He tucks my stripe behind my ear. "Or I'll take you to the opera.Or I'll fly you back here to visit. Whatever you want.Anything you want."
I lace my fingers through his. "I want to stay right here,in this moment."
"Isn't that the name of the latest James Ashley bestseller? In This Moment?"
"Careful.Someday you'll meet him, and he won't be nearly as amusing in person."
Etienne grins. "Oh,so he'll only be mildly amusing? I suppose I can handle mildly amusing."
"I'm serious! You have to promise me right now,this instant,that you won't leave me once you meet him.Most people would run."
"I'm not most people."
I smile. "I know.But you still have ~ Stephanie Perkins

New York. It's home to opera, Broadway, museums, the ballet and orchestra - everything that I love. The most real people in the world live there. ~ Kristin Chenoweth

Opera on television in Europe is very important. If you think about it in the broadest sense: a lot of the dramas made in India with music are practically operas. They're not sung but they have a very big appeal. I don't know why American television people are so stupid but at the moment, they just seem to have some sort of a block. They just do what they do and they do it for a certain number of years. Then it wears out and they try something else. It's just a matter of time I think. ~ Robert Ashley

The majority of American writers today have chosen passive non-resistance to things as they are, producing sloughs of poetry about their personal angst and anomie, cascades of short stories and rivers of novels obsessed with the nuances of domestic relationships - suburban hanky-panky - chic boutique shopping mall literary soap opera. When they do speak out on matters of controversy they attack not the evils of our time but fellow writers who may insist on complaining. ~ Edward Abbey

I am a person. I am not a soap opera. ~ Kate Winslet

My Heart
I'm not going to cry all the time
nor shall I laugh all the time,
I don't prefer one "strain" to another.
I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie,
not just a sleeper, but also the big,
overproduced first-run kind.
I want to be at least as alive as the vulgar. And if some aficionado of my mess says "That's not like Frank!," all to the good! I don't wear brown and grey suits all the time, do I? No. I wear workshirts to the opera,
often. I want my feet to be bare,
I want my face to be shaven, and my heart
you can't plan on the heart, but
the better part of it, my poetry, is open. ~ Frank O'Hara

The important prediction is not the automobile, but the parking problem; not radio, but the soap opera; not the income tax, but the expense account; not the Bomb, but the nuclear stalemate ~ Isaac Asimov

She imagined people picking up the newspapers she dropped through their doors, reading about a world they never visited. For the first time it occurred to her that her classmates had been right. Except it wasn't just one ghost, but many, one in every flat. Floating through the walls, communicating only through the strange words and symbols they left in the lift. ~ Catherine O'Flynn

A ghost story of which the scene is laid in the twelfth or thirteenth century may succeed in being romantic or poetical: it will never put the reader into the position of saying to himself: If I'm not careful, something of this kind may happen to me! ~ M.R. James

Dumb luck brought on the move from business to acting. I had moved to New York when I was 23, in the year 2000. On a lark, I went to audition for a soap opera. I thought, 'Hey, this will be a really fun story to tell my grandkids one day, that I auditioned for a soap!' ~ Teddy Sears

One of my favorite songs is 'Ghost' by Indigo Girls. Emily Saliers wrote that, and she is one of the most talented songwriters ever. ~ Tig Notaro

I am a middle-aged opera queen in loafers that makes out I am a 16 year old death metal skater ... It's all fake! My hair is fake, my body is fake and my teeth are kind of fake ~ Rick Owens

So now when a fight starts up I don't walk away like I used to, I crowd in and wait for those ghost words to start coming up. I've heard chump and howler and groovy, I've heard fuzz and kike and kraut and coon and square and roughhouse and lightweight and freak show and mama's boy and cancer stick and fairy and party hearty and flyboy and knuckle sandwich, and I grab up these expressions, I trap them in my head and I save them. Because every one has the DNA of a whole life in it, a life where those words fit in and made sense because everyone else was saying them, too. ~ Jennifer Egan

My father was a Catholic, a coal miner in the Big Pit. My mother a Jew. A charwoman, when she could find the work. They didn't fit in Wales. Nor in the U.K., either. They didn't fit with each other all that well, for that matter. They fought every day for as long as I can remember and loved each other more than anyone I've ever known. At least they did right up till a night when he looked right and not left at a train crossing in Chepstow and ended up half a mile from where he'd started, dead as the Ghost. Looking for a job, he was. Turned out he didn't need one. ~ Patrick Reinken

In the space of a breath he had crossed the distance separating them and spun her around into a vise grip from behind. Somehow, the gun was out of her hand and in his. He locked her arms between them and raised the gun to her temple. His voice resonated low and dangerous at her ear. "Just so we're very clear. If I want to kill you, I can kill you. ~ G.S. Jennsen

I don't know why it is, but women who have anything to do with Opera, even if they're only studying for it, always appear to run to surplus poundage. ~ P.G. Wodehouse