Oh, my dear, if you only knew how strange is the matter regarding which I am here, it is you who would laugh.
BRAM STOKERRemember my friend, that knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should not trust the weaker
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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We are all drifting reefwards now, and faith is our only anchor.
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Above the care of Nature and of State, Suspended in the noon of Night we wait, All slumber nursing, to make sweet and pure, While secret Nature, weaving works the cure. We are the handmaids of the hollow night,
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You cannot guess or measure the terrible endless longing to see the gates opened, and to be able to join the white figures within.
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Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past.
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Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me yet that he even loves me.
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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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Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall — all dance together to the music that he make with that smileless mouth of him.
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Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never more can the Count enter there Undead.
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Despair has its own calms.
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But hush! No telling to others that make so inquisitive questions. We must obey, and silence is a part of obedience, and obedience is to bring you strong and well into loving arms that wait for you.
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There are such beings as vampires, some of us have evidence that they exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience, the teachings and the records of the past give proof enough for sane peoples.
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I stood beside Van Helsing, and said;- “Ah, well, poor girl, there is peace for her at last. It is the end!” He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity:- “Not so; alas! not so. It is only the beginning!
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I do not, as you know, take sufficient interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. Dress is a bore.
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Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer–both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.
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And so we remained till the red of the dawn began to fall through the snow gloom. I was desolate and afraid, and full of woe and terror. But when that beautiful sun began to climb the horizon life was to me again.
BRAM STOKER