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.
BRAM STOKERI suppose a cry does us all good at times-clears the air as other rain does.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past.
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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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I saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with the horrible vindictive look which I knew so well.
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The Stars are a long way off, and their words get somewhat dulled in the message.
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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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He means to succeed, and a man who has centuries before him can afford to wait and to go slow.
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Then they will see that, perhaps, they too have some of the same fault in themselves – although perhaps it does not come out in the same way – and then they must try to conquer that fault.
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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!
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She was young and very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of death.
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But we are pledged to set the world free. Our toil must be in silence, and our efforts all in secret. For in this enlightened age, when men believe not even what they see, the doubting of wise men would be his greatest strength.
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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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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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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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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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It would be at once his sheath and his armor, and his weapons to destroy us, his enemies, who are willing to peril even our own souls for the safety of one we love. For the good of mankind, and for the honor and glory of God.
BRAM STOKER