“Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere.”

No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.

Ah, 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.

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.

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.

Sleep has no place it can call its own.

Doctor, you don’t know what it is to doubt everything, even yourself. No, you don’t; you couldn’t with eyebrows like yours.

The angels of the dark, restoring sight; We go — the pains of Day to soothe, console — Awake, arise! Behold thou art made whole.

The blood is life… and it shall be mine!

I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air.

I have been so long master that I would be master still, or at least that none other should be master of me.

Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past.

It would be at once his sheath and his armor, and his weapons to destroy us, his enemies, who are willing to peril even our own souls for the safety of one we love. For the good of mankind, and for the honor and glory of God.

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.

Ah, 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.

I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him.

All men are mad in some way or the other, and inasmuch as you deal discreetly with your madmen, so deal with God’s madmen too, the rest of the world.

All other holidays are in a more or less degree connected with conflicts and battles of man’s prowess over man, of strife and discord for greed and power, of glories achieved by one nation over another. Labor Dayis devoted to no man, living or dead, to no sect, race, or nation.

They had always told me that I wrote like a man.

Is it possible that nobody has ever known that there never has been a completely civilized man, and won’t be for another thousand years?

The most important thing is insight, that is to be – curious – to wonder, to mull, and to muse why it is that man does what he does.

The love we have in our youth is superficial compared to the love that an old man has for his old wife.