“I'm a ghost," said the small figure, then added, a little uncertainly, "Boo?”

“Boo: "Go talk to her."

Callum: "About what?"

Boo: "Anything."

Callum: "You want me to walk up to her and say, 'Are you a ghost?'"

Boo: "I do that."

Callum: "I love it when you get it wrong.”

“When good Americans die, they go to Paris,' the ghost said, after taking a drag on a small cigarette.”

“As those persons who despair of ever being rich make little account of small expenses, thinking that little added to a little will never make any great sum.”

“It was sad to see his tall figure receding in the dark as we drove away, just like the other figures in New York and New Orleans: they stand uncertainly underneth inmense skies, and everything about them is drowned. Where go? what do? what for?”

“When good Americans die, they go to Paris,' the ghost said, after taking a drag on a small cigarette.
But you’re not dead. I suppose the question must be, are you good?”

“Everybody thinks I'm this delicate little girl. But you can't tell a book by it's cover.' To which she added a momentary smile.”

“I feel as if I am an ad
for the sale of a haunted house:

18 rooms
$37,000
I’m yours
ghosts and all.”

“I'm Razo, a member of Bayern's Own," he said, stopping himself from adding "Loafing is just a hobby of mine."
"Bayern's Own? But you're a child."
Razo looked up to the sky. "I'm not a child, I'm just short.”

“I'm just scared of ghosts, Pudge. And home is full of them.”