For me, I say no, but then I am old, and life, with his sunshine, his fair places, his song of birds, his music and his love, lie far behind. You others are young. Some have seen sorrow, but there are fair days yet in store. What say you?
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.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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She 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.
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We learn of great things by little experiences.
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But 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.
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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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Loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings.
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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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Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic when the fit of escaping is upon him!
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I’m a hard nut to crack, and I take it standing up.
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I have learned not to think little of any one’s belief, no matter how strange it may be. I have tried to keep an open mind, and it is not the ordinary things of life that could close it, but the strange things, the extraordinary things, the things that make one doubt if they be mad or sane.
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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 bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely.
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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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Nature in one of her beneficent moods has ordained that even death has some antidote to its own terrors.
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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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Oh, my dear, if you only knew how strange is the matter regarding which I am here, it is you who would laugh.
BRAM STOKER






