lingering presence Quotes

Paramore will be the neighbor that comes over for tea and never leaves.

The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which once they lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own.

Sometimes people graduate but they don't leave. They hang around for years, for no reason. I would think of ghosts like that, I decided.

As we descend deeper and deeper in this region its inhabitants become more and more modified, and fewer and fewer, indicating our approach towards an abyss where life is either extinguished, or exhibits but a few sparks to mark its lingering presence.

Not everybody believes in ghosts, but I do. Do you know what they are, Trisha? She had shaken her head slowly. Men and women who can't get over their past . . . That's what ghosts are.

There's a part of me that thinks perhaps we go on existing in a place even after we've left it.

It was as if the empty nights were made for thinking of him. And sometimes I found myself so vividly aware of him it was as if he had only just left the room and the ring of his voice were still there. And somehow, there was a disturbing comfort in that, and, despite myself, I’d envision his face.

...Lovers are Like walking ghosts, they always haunt the spot Of their misdeeds.

He may be out of my life physically, but he'll always be a part of me. I can't let go even if I wanted to.

Let my thoughts come to you, when I am gone, like the afterglow of sunset at the margin of starry silence.

I hate bands that hang around, like, 10 years too long - they're like the drunk at a party you can't get rid of.

It just goes to show you: you can put nine insane miles between you and another person. You can make a vow to never speak his name. You can surgically remove someone from your life. And still, he'll haunt you.

You're still here," he whispered. "They couldn't drag me away.

She haunted him, as an ungenerous action haunts one.

I'm not sure I believe in the whole 'ghost-afterlife' thing, but I think places are marked by people who have been there.

The girl's lover was gone, but his shadow was still there.

The past is a very determined ghost, haunting every chance it gets.

She divorced me August 10 of 2000, but she never was able to completely get rid of me. Don't ask me why.

The eyes of this dead lady speak to me For here was love, was not to be drowned out. And here desire, not to be kissed away. The eyes of this dead lady speak to me.

Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory; Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heap'd for the belovèd's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.

I see too many men delay their exits with a sickly, slow reluctance to leave the stage. It's bad theater as well as bad living.

I'm terrified of dying because of everything being too unfinished. I would be happy being a ghost.

You, yes, you, linger inside my heart The same you who stopped us before we could start.

I've never been very good at leaving things behind. I tried, but I have always left fragments of myself there too, like seeds awaiting their chance to grow.

You can have a silence full of words. A lute retains, in its bowl, the notes it has played. The viol, in its strings, holds a concord. A shriveled petal can hold its scent, a prayer can rattle with curses; an empty house, when the owners have gone out, can still be loud with ghosts.