It is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles; and yet when King Laugh come he make them all dance to the tune he play.
BRAM STOKERThe Stars are a long way off, and their words get somewhat dulled in the message.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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We see radiating many long arms with innumerable tentaculae, and in the centre rises a gigantic head with a comprehensive brain and keen eyes to look on every side and ears sensitive to hear–and a voracious mouth to swallow.
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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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No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.
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I have a sort of empty feeling; nothing in the world seems of sufficient importance to be worth the doing.
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For life be, after all, only a waitin’ for somethin’ else than what we’re doin’; and death be all that we can rightly depend on.
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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 is a method in his madness, and the rudimentary idea in my mind is growing. It will be a whole idea soon, and then, oh, unconscious cerebration.
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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.
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Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic when the fit of escaping is upon him!
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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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I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us.
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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.
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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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I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.
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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?
BRAM STOKER