Jacob Lewis: [possessed by the spirit of Lassander Dagmar] You're gonna listen to that old bastard? We were good people! This town murdered my family - sacrificed them to the gods they dug up when they built this place! Oh, nobody knew what was under this house until it was too late!

Dave McCabe: It's been 30 years since we've had fresh souls in the Dagmar house...

Paul Sacchetti: I think we can call it the Sacchetti house now.

Dave McCabe: Oh, it's still Dagmar's house.

Dave McCabe: Old Dagmar has been runnin' the parlor no more than a couple months when, well wouldn't you know, word got out that he'd been selling the bodies and burying empty coffins. People were saying he was, uh, selling the corpses to the university over in Essex County. Some even said he was selling to the Orientals over in Boston... turnin' 'em into chop suey. The town ran him, his wife, and their little girl out on a rail. Was just the saddest thing. They moved to Providence, but his family just couldn't stand the sight of him. Old Dagmar drank himself to death no more than a year later. They say he was no more than a shell of a man at the end.

Paul Sacchetti: [first lines, driving to the house] Probably another hour or so. Everything should be there. The movers were working all week, putting all the rooms together.

Anne Sacchetti: How did they know where to hang the photos?

Paul Sacchetti: I told them. If something's in the wrong place, we'll fix it.

Anne Sacchetti: We'll fix it...