Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic when the fit of escaping is upon him!
BRAM STOKERSleep has no place it can call its own.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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Faith … that faculty which enables us to believe things which we know to be untrue.
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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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There is a reason why all things are as they are.
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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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Take me away from all this Death.
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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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Doctor, you don’t know what it is to doubt everything, even yourself. No, you don’t; you couldn’t with eyebrows like yours.
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These infinitesimal distinctions between man and man are too paltry for an Omnipotent Being. How these madmen give themselves away! The real God taketh heed lest a sparrow fall. But the God created from human vanity sees no difference between an eagle and a sparrow.
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Loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings.
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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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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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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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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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A brave man’s hand can speak for itself, it does not even need a woman’s love to hear its music.
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Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!
BRAM STOKER






