“I went as a passenger, having no other inducement than a kind of nervous restlessness which haunted me as a fiend”

“Such speculation however, was of no interest to my father, who strongly objected to the possibility of spooks or spirits of any kind or even the use of these terms. ‘There is nothing in the attic’, he explained to me. ‘its only the way that your head is interacting with the space of that attic. There are certain fields of forces that are everywhere. And these forces, for reasons unknown to me as yet, are potentiated in some places more than others. Do you understand? The attic is not haunting your head- your head is haunting the attic. Some heads are more haunted than others, whether they are haunted by ghosts or by gods or by creatures from outer space. These are not real things. Nonetheless, they are indicative of real forces, animating and even creative forces, which your head only conceives to be some kind of spook or who knows what”

“What terrified me will terrify others; and I need only describe the spectre which had haunted my midnight pillow.”

“Slave. Minion. Fiend. The others who have come before me have been called such things, but I prefer to think of myself as a disciple; a devout follower of my voluptuous mistress.”

“For almost a decade I was haunted by the memory of Deborah Black, I was about to claim. But the memory didn't haunt me; I haunted the memory. Went to it, at night or in the deadened hours of empty afternoons, woke it up, reminded it of all the fun we'd had, made it do things with me.”

“[He] was alone, which surprised me. But not as much as the wicked looking knife he pulled off the passenger's seat and brought out with him. It was the kind of blade that a steak knife dreamed of becoming someday. It was bigger than a cleaver, not quite broadsword size.Drew whistled. "How many box tops did he have to turn in for that?”