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Apparitions: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations
Attired to please herself: no gems of any kind She wore, nor aught of borrowed gloss in Nature's stead; And, then her long, loose hair flung deftly round her head Fell carelessly behind.— TERENCE — The Self-Tormentor. Act II. Sc. 2. Translated by F. W. Ricord.
So for thy spirit did devise Its Maker seemly garniture, Of its own essence parcel pure,- From grave simplicities a dress, And reticent demureness, And love encinctured with reserve; Which the woven vesture would subserve. For outward robes in their ostents Should show the soul's habiliments. Therefore I say, -Thou'rt fair even so, But better Fair I use to know.— FRANCIS THOMPSON — Gilded Gold. St. 2.
Her polish'd limbs, Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire; Beyond the pomp of dress; for Loveliness Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is, when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most.— THOMSON — Seasons. Autumn. L. 202.
O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein, But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns, And heightens ease with grace.— THOMSON — Castle of Indolence. Canto I. St. 26.
She 's adorned Amply, that in her husband's eye looks lovely,- The truest mirror that an honest wife Can see her beauty in!— JOHN TOBIN — The Honeymoon. Act III. Sc. 4.
Their feet through faithless leather met the dirt, And oftener chang'd their principles than shirt. १. q. YOUNG. To Mr. Pope. Epistle I. L.
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow, And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!— ADDISON — Cato. Act II. Sc. 1.
Who gather round, and wonder at the tale Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly, That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand O'er some new-open'd grave; and, (strange to tell!) Evanishes at crowing of the cock.— BLAIR — The Grave. L. 67.
S. 'Where entity and quiddity, The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly. A.— BUTLER — Hudibras. Pt. I. Canto I. L. 145.
The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she.— COLERIDGE — The Ancient Mariner. Pt. III.
Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts. C.— HOMER — Odyssey. Bk. XI. L. 48.
Pope's trans. So many ghosts, and forms of fright, Have started from their graves to-night, They have driven sleep from mine eyes away; I will go down to the chapel and pray.— LONGFELLOW — The Golden Legend. Pt. IV.
Whence and what art thou, execrable shape?— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. II. L. 681.
What beck'ning ghost along the moonlight shade Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?— POPE — Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. L. 1.
A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?— Shakespeare — Macbeth. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 38.
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?— Shakespeare — Macbeth. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 33.
Now it is the time of night, That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide.— Shakespeare — Midsummer Night's Dream. Act V. Sc. 1. L. 386.
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this.— Shakespeare — Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 5. L. 126.
What are these, So wither'd, and so wild in their attire; That look not like the inhabitants o' th' earth, And yet are on 't?— Shakespeare — Macbeth. Act I. Sc. 3. L. 39.
My people too were scared with eerie sounds, A footstep, a low throbbing in the walls, A noise of falling weights that never fell, Weird whispers, bells that rang without a hand, Door-handles turn'd when none was at the door, And bolted doors that open'd of themselves; And one betwixt the dark and light had seen Her, bending by the cradle of her babe.— TENNYSON — The Ring.