It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from our sight.
BRAM STOKERShe 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.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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Love is, after all, a selfish thing; and it throws a black shadow on anything between which and the light it stands.
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Paris is a city of centralisation–and centralisation and classification are closely allied. In the early times, when centralisation is becoming a fact, its forerunner is classification. All things which are similar or analogous become grouped together, and from the grouping of groups rises one whole or central point.
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I am Dracula, and I bid you welcome . . .
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It is ever thus that the things which we do wrong – although they may seem little at the time, and though from the hardness of our hearts we pass them lightly by – come back to us with bitterness.
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There are such beings as vampires, some of us have evidence that they exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience, the teachings and the records of the past give proof enough for sane peoples.
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The Stars are a long way off, and their words get somewhat dulled in the message.
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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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Truly there is no such thing as finality.
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Love is, after all, a selfish thing; and it throws a black shadow on anything between which and the light it stands.
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But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to care not for.
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Loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings.
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It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import.
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Once again…welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring.
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But this night our feet must tread in thorny paths, or later, and for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!
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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,
BRAM STOKER