“People in the arts often want to aim for the biggest, most obvious target, and hit it smack in the bull’s eye.”

Because if a woman’s heart was free a man might have hope.

The fame of an actor is won in minutes and seconds, not in years.

Whether it is the old lady’s fear, or the many ghostly traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual.

Souls and memories can do strange things during trance.

Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at your door and say, ‘May I come in?’ is not true laughter. No! He is a king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no person, he choose no time of suitability. He say, ‘I am here.

I will not let you go into the unknown alone.

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.

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.

I suppose a cry does us all good at times-clears the air as other rain does.

There was one great tomb more lordly than all the rest; huge it was, and nobly proportioned. On it was but one word, DRACULA.

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

Loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings.

The only beautiful thing in the world whose beauty lasts for ever is a pure, fair soul.

Because if a woman’s heart was free a man might have hope.

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.

But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to care not for.

But my heart is always propped up in a field on its tripod, ready for the next arrow.

The probability that the bowman’s arrow hits the deer does not lie in the arrow or the deer. It lies in the bowman’s mind.

Hatha Yoga teaches us to use the body as the bow, asana as the arrow, and the soul the target.

Wait not while your foe fits arrow to bowstring when you can send your own arrow into him.

That … is how the world moves: Not like an arrow, but a boomerang.