MULDER: Stakeout.

SCULLY: On Christmas Eve?

MULDER: It's an important date.

SCULLY: No kidding.

MULDER: You don't believe in ghosts?

SCULLY: That surprises you?

MULDER: Well... Yeah. I thought everybody believed in ghosts.

SCULLY: These are tricks that the mind plays. They are ingrained cliches from a thousand different horror films. When we hear a sound, we get a chill. We-we see a shadow and we allow ourselves to imagine something that an otherwise rational person would discount out of hand. The whole... Mulder...? The whole idea of a benevolent entity fits perfectly with what I'm saying. That a spirit would materialize or return for no other purpose than to show itself is silly and ridiculous. I mean, what it really shows is how silly and ridiculous we have become in believing such things. I mean, that... That we can ignore all natural laws about the corporeal body- that-that we witness these spirits clad in-in their own shabby outfits with the same old haircuts and hairstyles never aging, never... Never in search of more comfortable surroundings-- it actually ends up saying more about the living than it does about the dead.

MULDER: Mm-hmm.

SCULLY: I mean, Mulder, it doesn't take an advanced degree in psychology to understand the... the unconscious yearnings that these imaginings satisfy. You know, the-the longing for immortality the hope that there is something beyond this mortal coil- that-that we might never be long without our loved ones. I mean, these are powerful, powerful desires. I mean, they're the very essence of what make us human. The very essence of Christmas, actually.

MULDER: Hey, you have a gun, right? Rationally, you've been in much more dangerous situations.

MAURICE: You drink? Take drugs?

MULDER: No.

MAURICE: Get high?

MULDER: No.

MAURICE: Are you overcome by the impulse to make everyone believe you? I'm in the field of mental health. I specialize in disorders and manias related to pathological behavior as it pertains to the paranormal.

MULDER: Wow. I didn't know such a thing existed.

MAURICE: My specialty is in what I call soul prospectors-- a crossaxial classification I've codified by extensive interaction with visitors like yourself. I've found you all tend to fall into pretty much the same category.

MULDER: And what category is that?

MAURICE: Narcissistic, overzealous, self-righteous egomaniac.

MULDER: That's a category?

MAURICE: You kindly think of yourself as single-minded but you're prone to obsessive compulsiveness workaholism, antisocialism... Fertile fields for the descent into total wacko breakdown.

MAURICE: You've probably convinced yourself you've seen aliens. You know why you think you see the things you do?

MULDER: Because I have seen them?

MAURICE: 'Cause you're a lonely man. A lonely man chasing paramasturbatory illusions that you believe will give your life meaning and significance and which your pathetic social maladjustment makes impossible for you to find elsewhere. You probably consider yourself passionate, serious, misunderstood. Am I right?

MULDER: "Paramasturbatory"?

MAURICE: Most people would rather stick their fingers in a wall socket than spend a minute with you.

MULDER: Frump.

LYDA: I don't know who you're calling a frump but I don't appreciate that-- being manhandled, or called names. Certainly not at this hour.

MULDER: You're a ghost.

LYDA: Oh, more names!

SCULLY: Mulder... None of that really happened out there tonight... That was all in our heads, right?

MULDER: I-it must have been.

SCULLY: Mmm. Not that, uh, my only joy in life is proving you wrong.

MULDER: When have you proved me wrong?