Host Quotes - Page 4

We were not allowed to say, Screw, but we could say, Hump the hostess, because hump is in Shakespeare.

The dogma of the Ghost in the machine.

And I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.

I do not condone hostility toward any church simply to vent personal malice or umbrage.

It is a sign of great inner insecurity to be hostile to the unfamiliar.

The best timed joke or the best timed phrase comes at spontaneous moments and just relies on me as the host to be very quick, and that's what I do.

Those who believe in ghosts always see them.

Every happiness is a hostage to fortune.

A ghost is someone who hasn't made it - in other words, who died, and they don't know they're dead. So they keep walking around and thinking that you're inhabiting their - let's say, their domain. So they're aggravated with you.

[Happiness is] a ghost, it’s a shadow. You can’t really chase it. It’s a by-product, a very pleasant side effect to a life lived well.

The muses are ghosts, and sometimes they come uninvited.

There are some ghost stories in Japan where - when you are sitting in the bathroom in the traditional style of the Japanese toilet - a hand is actually starting to grab you from beneath. It's a very scary story.

I walk around the world like a ghost, and sometimes I question whether I even exist. Whether I've ever existed at all.

No, ghosts are real. You can see them, touch them, and hear them. But they do not exist. Which is why science ignores them. But to claim they are a fabrication and do not exist because science ignores them is a mistake. Because ghosts are real.

I conquered my hostility by putting it away until the day I might need it.

People are either born hosts or born guests.

Do I believe in ghosts?...I am prepared to consider evidence and accept it if it satisfies me.

I have never yet heard of a murderer who was not afraid of a ghost.

The inmates are ghosts whose dreams have been murdered.

Ghost stories are always listened to and well received in private, but pitilessly disavowed in public. For my own part, ignorant as I am of the way in which the human spirit enters the world and the way in which he goes out of it, I dare not deny the truth of many such narratives.

There is a paranoid streak in American life. Radio talk show hosts tend to foment that paranoid streak in American life.

The world is full of ghosts, and some of them are still people.

Nice is a city of ghosts and specters, but I hope not to become one of them right away.

The problem with surviving was that you ended up with the ghosts of everyone you’d ever left behind riding on your shoulders.

What then is truth? A movable host of metaphors, metonymies, and anthropomorphisms: in short, a sum of human relations which have been poetically and rhetorically intensified, transferred, and embellished, and which, after long usage, seem to a people to be fixed, canonical, and binding. Truths are illusions which we have forgotten are illusions — they are metaphors that have become worn out and have been drained of sensuous force.