“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.”

I am Dracula, and I bid you welcome . . .

He means to succeed, and a man who has centuries before him can afford to wait and to go slow.

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?

Truly there is no such thing as finality.

The Stars are a long way off, and their words get somewhat dulled in the message.

I could not resist the temptation of mystifying him a bit, I suppose it is some taste of the original apple that remains still in our mouths.

It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import.

I do not, as you know, take sufficient interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. Dress is a bore.

As yet we know nothing of what goes to create or evoke the active spark of life.

No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.

Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain.

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.

A wild howling began, which seemed to come from all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night.

Sleep has no place it can call its own.

Doctor, you don’t know what it is to doubt everything, even yourself. No, you don’t; you couldn’t with eyebrows like yours.

The angels of the dark, restoring sight; We go — the pains of Day to soothe, console — Awake, arise! Behold thou art made whole.

Working on The West Wing was similar in many ways to my experience on M*A*S*H, because you had people willing to work late at night to get it just right.

I was looking at the history of the sport and I couldn’t understand why there have been so many good South American drivers, especially Brazilians.

To many, the solution seems simple enough: such a change being impossible, the art of the novel is dying.

There are many things my father taught me here in this room. He taught me: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

Maturity: the confidence to have no opinions on many things.

Many years ago I found out something about hamburgers that really grossed me out. You may not know this, so I hope I don’t make you sick, but it turns out hamburgers are actually made out of dead cows.

Reason forbade me many things which, Instinctively, my nature was attracted to;

There aren’t that many superstars around anymore.