A 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 STOKERNo man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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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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Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?
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Remember my friend, that knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should not trust the weaker
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Though sympathy alone can’t alter facts, it can help to make them more bearable.
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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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I want you to believe…to believe in things that you cannot.
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There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in part.
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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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Faith … that faculty which enables us to believe things which we know to be untrue.
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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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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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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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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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Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never more can the Count enter there Undead.
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It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.
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