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 STOKERAh, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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Love is, after all, a selfish thing; and it throws a black shadow on anything between which and the light it stands.
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Our toil must be in silence, and our efforts all in secret; for 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 cried even when the laugh did choke me. But no more think that I am all sorry when I cry, for the laugh he come just the same.
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The inscrutable laws of sex have so arranged that even a timid woman is not afraid of a fierce and haughty man.
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I suppose a cry does us all good at times-clears the air as other rain does.
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Let me tell you, my friend, that there are things done today in electrical science which would have been deemed unholy by the very man who discovered electricity, who would themselves not so long before been burned as wizards
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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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Let me be accurate in everything, for though you and I have seen some strange things together, you may at the first think that I, Van Helsing, am mad. That the many horrors and the so long strain on nerves has at the last turn my brain.
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Loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings.
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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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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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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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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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How good and thoughtful he is; the world seems full of good men–even if there are monsters in it.
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Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never more can the Count enter there Undead.
BRAM STOKER