The ghosts that exert the most power in people__ lives-at least, the people I know__end to be of their own making, and consist of equal parts regret and old fears and just plain missing somebody.
It's like the corporate world's full of ghosts _ maybe a fairer way of putting this would be to say that adulthood's full of ghosts _ these people who've ended up in one life instead of another and they are just so disappointed ... They've done what's expected of them. They want to do something different but it's impossible now, there's a mortgage, kids, whatever, they're trapped _ High-functioning sleepwalkers, essentially.
Station Eleven
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It's like the corporate world's full of ghosts _ maybe a fairer way of putting this would be to say that adulthood's full of ghosts _ these people who've ended up in one life instead of another and they are just so disappointed ... They've done what's expected of them. They want to do something different but it's impossible now, there's a mortgage, kids, whatever, they're trapped _ High-functioning sleepwalkers, essentially.
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As she walked to the stairway, he pulled her back with a light tug on her shoulder. "They're responding to you now." Turning to face him, she said, "Responding to me? What did I say?" "The hallway was full of them. When you said we were going downstairs to eat, they started filing down the stairs." "They all took the stairs?" Eddie nodded, his shining, gifted eyes watching the ghostly procession. He said, "They don't want to be far from you, Jess. And I'm not entire sure it's well intentioned." "Come to use," the voices whispered.
Monsters, ghost and everything spiritual and non-spiritual exists. Because we create it, the way to stop it..., is just to stop thinking about it. - (This is how I solve the problem)
This book's like black holes. It really engulfes you whole.
I knew there were no ghosts in there, but on the other hand, what if there were?
Here, at the edges,Whispering to you,And we__e not alone; not aloneHere, in the dark.We are behind the door, in the corners,In the room where you__e just extinguished the light.We flicker in the shadow you cast on the wall.We are the prickle on the back of your neck.Curled, in words unspoken,We are the shiver on your uneasy flesh,The creep of the unknown on your skin.Can you feel us?Here, at the edges.From the Foreword of Cautionary Tales - by Emmanuelle de Maupassant