Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere.
BRAM STOKERHow 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.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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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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The only beautiful thing in the world whose beauty lasts for ever is a pure, fair soul.
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We learn of great things by little experiences.
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We are able to learn from a failure, but perhaps not much from a success!
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Good women tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such things that angels can read.
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A house cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century.
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And then away for home! Away to the quickest and nearest train! Away from this cursed land, where the devil and his children stil walk with earthly feet!
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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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These infinitesimal distinctions between man and man are too paltry for an Omnipotent Being. How these madmen give themselves away! The real God taketh heed lest a sparrow fall. But the God created from human vanity sees no difference between an eagle and a sparrow.
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No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.
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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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Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me yet that he even loves me.
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Above the care of Nature and of State, Suspended in the noon of Night we wait, All slumber nursing, to make sweet and pure, While secret Nature, weaving works the cure. We are the handmaids of the hollow night,
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And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere ‘modernity’ cannot kill.
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Because if a woman’s heart was free a man might have hope.
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She is one of God’s women fashioned by His own hand to show us men and other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its light can be here on earth.
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Enter freely and of your own free will!
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We are in Transylvania, and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things. Nay, from what you have told me of your experiences already, you know something of what strange things there may be.
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But we are strong, each in our purpose, and we are all more strong together.
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Sleep has no place it can call its own.
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You cannot guess or measure the terrible endless longing to see the gates opened, and to be able to join the white figures within.
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As yet we know nothing of what goes to create or evoke the active spark of life.
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She has man’s brain–a brain that a man should have were he much gifted–and woman’s heart. The good God fashioned her for a purpose, believe me when He made that so good combination.
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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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Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!
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I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him.
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