Oh, the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late; the pain of the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, and with such unknown horror as it has for me!
BRAM STOKERAnd so we remained till the red of the dawn began to fall through the snow gloom. I was desolate and afraid, and full of woe and terror. But when that beautiful sun began to climb the horizon life was to me again.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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It is something like the way dame Nature gathers round a foreign body an envelope of some insensitive tissue which can protect from evil that which it would otherwise harm by contact.
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There are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely.
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She was young and very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of death.
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We are able to learn from a failure, but perhaps not much from a success!
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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 -
Once again…welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring.
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I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.
BRAM STOKER -
I have been so long master that I would be master still, or at least that none other should be master of me.
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Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never more can the Count enter there Undead.
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Take me away from all this Death.
BRAM STOKER -
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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Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall — all dance together to the music that he make with that smileless mouth of him.
BRAM STOKER -
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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The only beautiful thing in the world whose beauty lasts for ever is a pure, fair soul.
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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.
BRAM STOKER






