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.
BRAM STOKERWithin, 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.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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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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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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This man belongs to me, I want him!
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The Stars are a long way off, and their words get somewhat dulled in the message.
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Take me away from all this Death.
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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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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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I suppose a cry does us all good at times-clears the air as other rain does.
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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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No man knows where the Castle of King Death is. All men and women, boys and girls, and even little wee children should so live that when they have to enter the Castle and see the grim King, they may not fear to behold his face.
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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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Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past.
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Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!
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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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Despair has its own calms.
BRAM STOKER