Enter freely and of your own free will!
BRAM STOKERLove is, after all, a selfish thing; and it throws a black shadow on anything between which and the light it stands.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are; that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplate by men´s eyes, because they know -or think they know- some things which other men have told them..
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Because if a woman’s heart was free a man might have hope.
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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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And then away for home! Away to the quickest and nearest train! Away from this cursed land, where the devil and his children stil walk with earthly feet!
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All men are mad in some way or the other, and inasmuch as you deal discreetly with your madmen, so deal with God’s madmen too, the rest of the world.
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It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from our sight.
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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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I want to cut off her head and take out her heart.
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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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Take me away from all this Death.
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It is really wonderful how much resilience there is in human nature. Let any obstructing cause, no matter what, be removed in any way, even by death, and we fly back to first principles of hope and enjoyment.
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Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere.
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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. A personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.
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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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And then away for home! Away to the quickest and nearest train! Away from this cursed land, where the devil and his children stil walk with earthly feet!
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Good women tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such things that angels can read.
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I have been so long master that I would be master still, or at least that none other should be master of me.
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The angels of the dark, restoring sight; We go — the pains of Day to soothe, console — Awake, arise! Behold thou art made whole.
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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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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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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!
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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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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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As yet we know nothing of what goes to create or evoke the active spark of life.
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And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere ‘modernity’ cannot kill.
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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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