Haunted House Quotes

Galton was a world renowned anthropologist back in the nineteenth century, though he was a big overshadowed by his cousin, Charles Darwin.

There had stood a great house in the centre of the gardens, where now was left only that fragment of ruin. This house had been empty for a great while; years before his—the ancient man's—birth. It was a place shunned by the people of the village, as it had been shunned by their fathers before them. There were many things said about it, and all were of evil. No one ever went near it, either by day or night. In the village it was a synonym of all that is unholy and dreadful.

William Hope Hodgson

Lily?” She couldn’t see his face, but she knew his eyes were on her. She could feel them. A beat passed. Then another. He flicked the flashlight on, his eyes zooming in on her mouth. “Don’t suppose you’re scared enough of the dark to leave.” She shook her head. “I don’t suppose you’re planning on leaving me on my own.” A smile, then, “You might cheat.” He tugged their linked hands and leaned the slightest bit closer. “True,” she breathed, mirroring his movement. “I wouldn’t trust you if our roles were reversed.” Inches from his face, she admired the curve of his top lip. “What are you doing, Black?” “I think,” he whispered back, his warm breath fanning over her lips, “I’m going to have to kiss you, McIntire.

Lily?”She couldn’t see his face, but she knew his eyes were on her. She could feel them. A beat passed. Then another. He flicked the flashlight on, his eyes zooming in on her mouth. “Don’t suppose you’re scared enough of the dark to leave.” She shook her head. “I don’t suppose you’re planning on leaving me on my own.” A smile, then, “You might cheat.” He tugged their linked hands and leaned the slightest bit closer. “True,” she breathed, mirroring his movement. “I wouldn’t trust you if our roles were reversed.” Inches from his face, she admired the curve of his top lip. “What are you doing, Black?” “I think,” he whispered back, his warm breath fanning over her lips, “I’m going to have to kiss you, McIntire.

You’re killing me in this proper little suit,” he said, skating a heated look over her shirt. “My place or yours?” She swallowed thickly, the hand against his chest beginning to sweat. “I-I’m busy.” “You’re gonna be,” he said, smiling. “Need to know what bed you’re gonna be in, though. Bringing my A game.” “Don’t you think—?” “About you underneath me? Only every other minute. Now answer me, or else I’ll throw you on the nearest desk.” Heat burst onto her cheeks. He noticed. “Oh, really?” He smiled down at her.

Say my name.""No." She tipped her head up, her breath sawing out of her lungs. “Don’t stop, please.” He languidly stroked her. “I won’t stop, but I won’t take you there unless you say it.” Her voice locked in her throat. He stroked into her again at the same time giving her the pressure she desired with his thumb. “I have all night.

He drew in an answering breath, and she waited to hear the quip, the joke, the dab of levity for the most intense moment they’d ever shared. But he only dropped his head into the crook of her neck and laid his mouth over her leaping pulse as they found their unhurried rhythm in the dark.

Let [the wife] guard, as much as possible, against a gloomy and moody disposition, which causes her to move about with the silence and cloudiness of a spectre; for who likes to dwell in a haunted house?

John Angell James