Arthur Conan Doyle Quotes

While it's cool to think ghosts exist, I don't want to see one.

There is something haunting in the light of the moon.

When the dawn was still long hours away, bad thoughts took on flesh and began to walk. In the middle of the night thoughts became zombies.

A house is never still in darkness to those who listen intently; there is a whispering in distant chambers, an unearthly hand presses the snib of the window, the latch rises. Ghosts were created when the first man awoke in the night.

Awful Night! Ancestral mystery of mysteries.

Horror does not interest me, and so I know little of its practicioners, old or current.

On Halloween, kids get to assume, for one night the outward forms of their innermost dread, and they're also allowed to take candy from strangers - the scariest thing of all.

Horror is edgier. Dark fantasy feels mushier to me. Finding the difference - it's an instinct. And they overlap a lot.

Ironically, I wouldn't say I'm a massive horror fan. I love thrillers.

We shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their ears after midnight.

I wish ghosts were real!

Nothing's scarier than wrestling The Boogeyman.

Rather than a horror film, a ghost story is different because a ghost is what you can't quite see.

Sometimes a disappearance can be more haunting than an apparition.

Witches were really scary to me as a kid.

It was bad enough when I thought your ghost was haunting me; I don't think I could handle the real thing.

I started after him...and the clown looked back. I saw Its eyes, and all at once I understood who It was." "Who was it, Don?" Harold Gardner asked softly. "It was Derry," Don Hagarty said. "It was this town.

Swiftly walk o'er the western wave, Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joyand fear, Which make thee terrible and dear, Swift be thy flight!

I don't think that there is anything that is really magical unless it has a terrifying quality.

So many horrid Ghosts.

Night was a very different matter. It was dense, thicker than the very walls, and it was empty, so black, so immense that within it you could brush against appalling things and feel roaming and prowling around a strange, mysterious horror.

So that's the ghost you been running from.

Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world.

I trembled, and my heart failed within me; when, on looking up, I saw, by the light of the moon, the daemon at the casement.