77 Quotes About Ghost-stories

My voice was deeper than his, husky and rasping, like the caw of a crow.

Ivo sat and listened, the look in his blue eyes enrapt and I knew, though I could hardly believe it, that he was not bored or uninterested, that to him I mattered as I had never mattered to anyone in my life.

He touched my face; I could feel the heat of his fingers, and this time I did not flinch away, although I was trembling.

I want to make love to you. Will you let me?

At home, it was part of my life that Ivo was always watching me, unblinking, the slits of his pupils expanding and contracting as a cat’s do when it considers whether or not to pounce on its prey.

I heard the clicking of hells, like the tapping of tiny hooves, and there appeared in front of me two, tiny withered crones. I thought I had to be dreaming still, for they were identical, dressed in the same dark red, with small, black, cunning eyes in their pale, wrinkled faces. They looked as if they put up their silvery-white hair in its coiled braids using each other as a mirror, and there were long, dangling earrings of marcasite and jet.

At dinner, Mr. Marten produced his elegant place cards and assigned us places with the arbitrary ruthlessness of a dictator.

A room more clearly meant to delight the heart of a bibliophile I could not imagine.

I did not know how to help her; I was not the hero for whom she waited, the man whose touch could dissolve the wall around her and set her free.