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 pressur… - Bruce Coville

As it turned out, he was wrong about that. The last guest didn't show up until we were eating our dessert.
That was when the ghost sat down in the empty chair-directly across from me.

"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.

Across the gently rolling hills,
Beyond high mountain peaks,
Along the shores of distant seas,
There's something my heart seeks.

But there's no peace in wandering,
The road's not made for rest.
And footsore fools will never know
What home might suit them best.

But, oh, the things that I have seen,
The secret paths I've trod,
The hidden corners of the world
Known to none but me and God.

Yes, the world was meant for knowing,
And feet were meant to roam.
But one who's always going
Will never find a home.

Oh, where's the thread that binds me,
The voice that calls me back?
Where's the love that finds me — And what's the root I lack?