The only beautiful thing in the world whose beauty lasts for ever is a pure, fair soul.
BRAM STOKERI have been so long master that I would be master still, or at least that none other should be master of me.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams.
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Though sympathy alone can’t alter facts, it can help to make them more bearable.
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Truly there is no such thing as finality.
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We learn from failure, not from success!
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For me, I say no, but then I am old, and life, with his sunshine, his fair places, his song of birds, his music and his love, lie far behind. You others are young. Some have seen sorrow, but there are fair days yet in store. What say you?
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Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are; that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplate by men´s eyes, because they know -or think they know- some things which other men have told them..
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I want you to believe…to believe in things that you cannot.
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There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.
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He may not enter anywhere at the first, unless there be some one of the household who bid him to come, though afterwards he can come as he please.
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Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road, a long, agonized wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up by another dog, and then another and another, till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass.
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It would be at once his sheath and his armor, and his weapons to destroy us, his enemies, who are willing to peril even our own souls for the safety of one we love. For the good of mankind, and for the honor and glory of God.
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Ah, we men and women are like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us in different directions.
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Ordinary men, to whom all things are possible, don’t often, if ever, think of Heaven. It is a name, and nothing more, and they are content to wait and let things be, but to those who are doomed to be shut out for ever you cannot think what it means.
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Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer–both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.
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You yourself never loved; you never love! Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?
BRAM STOKER