For now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accurately must help sooth me.
BRAM STOKERFor now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accurately must help sooth me.
BRAM STOKERThere is a reason why all things are as they are.
BRAM STOKERSleep has no place it can call its own.
BRAM STOKERBecause if a woman’s heart was free a man might have hope.
BRAM STOKERNo man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.
BRAM STOKERThere 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.
BRAM STOKERLove is, after all, a selfish thing; and it throws a black shadow on anything between which and the light it stands.
BRAM STOKERA wild howling began, which seemed to come from all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night.
BRAM STOKERBut 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.
BRAM STOKERNo man knows where the Castle of King Death is. All men and women, boys and girls, and even little wee children should so live that when they have to enter the Castle and see the grim King, they may not fear to behold his face.
BRAM STOKERShe is one of God’s women fashioned by His own hand to show us men and other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its light can be here on earth.
BRAM STOKERAnd yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere ‘modernity’ cannot kill.
BRAM STOKERA brave man’s hand can speak for itself, it does not even need a woman’s love to hear its music.
BRAM STOKERSuddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the sky.
BRAM STOKERSleep has no place it can call its own.
BRAM STOKEREnter freely and of your own free will!
BRAM STOKER