Change will come, whether we wish it to or not. To fight it is like fighting the sunrise. Better to say, 'Ah, welcome old friend. Here you are again. - Bruce Coville

The music started, and we began to dance. It was like magic. A ghost can't lead, of course; he can't tell you where to go, with just a bit of pressure on your hand or your back. But I knew, anyway. I knew exactly where to turn, where to move. It was as if he was telling me with his eyes, which were locked on mine. And it was as if I was seeing another time through his eyes, because even though I was still in the Quackadoodle, at the same time I was back in Charleston, a hundred and twenty five years before.

Hearts grow hard and weary. Pain spreads, and joy diminishes. Those who hated you hate you still, but those who loved you, or would have loved you, or wanted to love you but never had the chance, are being scraped hollow by a loss they don't understand. Come home. Please come home. We are withering without you.

"Then you're saying this theater isn't haunted?"
"I'm saying so what if it is?" said Edgar. "People have been saying the place is haunted for nearly fifty years now, and in all that time the ghost hasn't done one bit of harm. Why should she start now?"
"Maybe she doesn't like the script," Ken Abbott said.
"Thanks a lot, Ken," said Alan Bland.