Ghost And Pals Quotes

Joshua's ministry was three years of preaching, sometimes three times a day, and although there were some high and low points, I could never remember the sermons word for word, but here's the gist of almost every sermon I ever heard Joshua give. You should be nice to people, even creeps. And if you: a) believed that Joshua was the Son of God (and) b) he had come to save you from sin (and) c) acknowledged the Holy Spirit within you (became as a little child, he would say) (and) d) didn't blaspheme the Holy Ghost (see c) then you would: e) live forever f) someplace nice g) probably heavan However, if you: h) sinned (and/or) i) were a hypocrite (and/or) j) valued things over people (and) k) didn't do a, b, c, and d, then you were: l) fucked

Hell is a state of mind, my dear. Reality is simply what we believe it to be. Each of us makes our own truths, even ghosts.

Somewhere behind me, Zia yelled, "Hippo!" Which I thought was a little late. She stumbled toward me over the rocking deck, the tip of her staff on fire. Our ghostly pal Setne floated behind her, grinning with delight. "There is it!" Setne shook his diamond pink rings. "Told ya Apophis would send a monster to kill you." "You're so smart!" I shouted. "Now, how do we stop it?

Listen up, pal, the moon is way up in the sky. Aren’t you scared? The helplessness that comes from nature. That moonlight, think about it, that moonlight, paler than a corpse’s face, so silent and far away, that moonlight witnessed the cries of the first monsters to walk the earth, surveyed the peaceful waters after the deluges and the floods, illuminated centuries of nights and went out at dawns throughout centuries . . . Think about it, my friend, that moonlight will be the same tranquil ghost when the last traces of your great-grandsons’ grandsons no longer exist. Prostrate yourself before it. You’ve shown up for an instant and it is forever. Don’t you suffer, pal? I . . . I myself can’t stand it. It hits me right here, in the center of my heart, having to die one day and, thousands of centuries later, undistinguished in humus, eyeless for all eternity, I, I!, for all eternity . . . and the indifferent, triumphant moon, its pale hands outstretched over new men, new things, different beings. And I Dead! Think about it, my friend. It’s shining over the cemetery right now. The cemetery, where all lie sleeping who once were and never more shall be. There, where the slightest whisper makes the living shudder in terror and where the tranquility of the stars muffles our cries and brings terror to our eyes. There, where there are neither tears nor thoughts to express the profound misery of coming to an end.

I don’t believe in ghosts.” She gazes at me steadily. “What you believe is immaterial, Kayla. Because ghosts most definitely believe in you.

I must have come back to her,” the ghost said distractedly. “I must have married her. But that would mean—” He gave Alex a sharp glance. “Zoë could be my granddaughter.” Alex rubbed his forehead and pinched the corners of his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “Oh, great.” “That means hands off from now on.” “You were pushing me to go after her,” Alex said in outrage. “That was before I knew about this. I don’t want you becoming part of my family tree.” “Back off, pal. I’m not going near anyone’s family tree.

Ziggy is in front of the tube, as if nothing much has been happening in his day, watching Scooby Goes Latin! (1990). Maxine after a quick visit to the bathroom to reformat, knowing better than to start in with the Q&A, comes in and sits down next to him about the time it breaks for a commercial. “Hi, Mom.” She wants to enfold him forever. Instead lets him recap the plot for her. Shaggy, somehow allowed to drive the van, has become confused and made some navigational errors, landing the adventurous quintet eventually in Medellín, Colombia, home at the time to a notorious cocaine cartel, where they stumble onto a scheme by a rogue DEA agent to gain control of the cartel by pretending to be the ghost—what else—of an assassinated drug kingpin. With the help of a pack of local street urchins, however, Scooby and his pals foil the plan.

On the fourth day the members of the 8th tried to tell each other jokes they’d found on the Phoenix data net, and mostly failed to make them work; by the time their BrainPals unpacked the context of the joke, it was no longer funny. Only Sarah Pauling seemed to be laughing most of the time, and it was eventually determined she was laughing because she thought it was funny that none of the rest of them could tell a joke. No one else thought that was funny, to which Pauling laughed hard enough to fall off her cot. They all agreed that was funny.

His three goon buddies nodded. The ugliest of the bunch spat on the floor. “I’m gonna personally enjoy ripping your tonsils out through yer nose.” Jericho crouched low, assuming a wrestler’s stance. “Hate to break it to you, but I had them removed a long time ago.” The ghost looked crestfallen and mildly confused. “Well shit. What am I ‘sposed to rip out now?” Spook number four patted his pal on the back. “Don’t worry, Meryl. You’ll think of somethin’.

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How can a ghost be capable of violence if it doesn’t have a body?” “The same way it can rearrange furniture or knock something off a shelf.” “I don’t understand.” She gathers her thoughts for a moment. “A spirit is energy manifesting itself, akin to an electrical storm gathering force until it discharges a bolt of lightning. When a spirit is upset, that emotion—that energy—is transformed into a physical outcome. Hence your open cupboards and drawers.” She glances upward. “Or your flickering lights.

You should be nice to people, even creeps. And if you: a) believed that Joshua was the Son of God (and) b) he had come to save you from sin (and) c) acknowledged the Holy Spirit within you (became as a little child, he would say)(and) d) didn’t blaspheme the Holy Ghost (see c), then you would: e) live forever f) someplace nice g) probably heaven. However, if you: h) sinned (and/or) i) were a hypocrite (and/or) j) valued things over people (and) k) didn’t do a, b, c, and d, then you were: l) fucked

Joshua’s ministry was three years of preaching, sometimes three times a day, and although there were some high and low points, I could never remember the sermons word for word, but here’s the gist of almost every sermon I ever heard Joshua give. You should be nice to people, even creeps. And if you: a) believed that Joshua was the Son of God (and) b) he had come to save you from sin (and) c) acknowledged the Holy Spirit within you (became as a little child, he would say)(and) d) didn’t blaspheme the Holy Ghost (see c), then you would: e) live forever f) someplace nice g) probably heaven. However, if you: h) sinned (and/or) i) were a hypocrite (and/or) j) valued things over people (and) k) didn’t do a, b, c, and d, then you were: l) fucked

Abruptly, her arm freezes. She presses the pencil to the paper and writes a word in one fast scrawl from start to finish. The word is composed of heavy block letters all in caps, scratched so deeply into the paper, in some places it’s torn through to the page beneath. REVENGE A sudden freezing draft snuffs out the burning candles. Something cold brushes against my cheek, like a ghostly wind. Or ghostly fingers. I scream at the top of my lungs and run from the room.

Ghosts are a bit like people with psychiatric disorders. They cannot distinguish illusion from reality. When a soul is trapped here, it needs a guide—a spirit guide, if you will—to help lead it to the light.” “Wait. Now you want me to be a ghost guide?

Being trapped in limbo is terribly confusing. In fact, this ghost of yours most likely doesn’t even know he’s dead.” “I already told her that,” says Fiona. “So he needs me to help him remember.” I look at the letters again. “Remind me why I can’t just tell him he’s dead?

The Death card. The Lovers. The reversed Magician, indicating I needed to let go of my illusions. The upright Ten of Swords that hinted at deep wounds, painful endings … Betrayal. Fiona saying, “Reality is simply what we believe it to be. Each of us makes our own truths, even ghosts.

Mediums, of course. A few psychics, too, though most of them are fakes. Also many geniuses, for reasons we don’t really understand, though it probably has something to do with their brain chemistry.” Claire adds, “Cats as well.” “Yes, that’s correct. Cats can see ghosts, too.” She pauses. “So can some gifted children.

If Dante’s the ghost in this house … who’s the kid? And what about the man in the trench coat and hat? How does he fit into all this?” When I look back at Claire and Fiona, they’re wearing identical expressions of sadness, along with another emotion I’ve seen before. I saw it on Destiny’s face, the psychic I visited who wished me safe travels as I was leaving. It’s unmistakable. It’s pity.

How sad,” said Eilidh, her breath seeming to labor. “That there is no mention, from our good lord, about our beloved beasties and Grimalkin joining us in the afterlife. I shall see, my darling Alfie, I doubt not that. But our wee fluffy pals...always so noble! Always so loyal. With us through so much.

That’s it, little ghost. I want you to come so hard you’ll wake the dead.

Two cocks, little ghost,” I say, my voice thick with arousal. “That’s my greedy little slut.

Dirty little ghost. So eager to fuck that she’ll rut against a dry old femur.

We’ll work through her trauma together, step by painful step. I will never give up on my little ghost, no matter her mental state.