And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere ‘modernity’ cannot kill.
BRAM STOKERWe 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.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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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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Once again…welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring.
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Sleep has no place it can call its own.
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It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import.
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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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Denn die Todten reiten Schnell. (For the dead travel fast.)
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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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We are all drifting reefwards now, and faith is our only anchor.
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As yet we know nothing of what goes to create or evoke the active spark of life.
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I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!
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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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If this be an ordered selfishness, then we should pause before we condemn any one for the vice of egoism, for there may be deeper root for its causes than we have knowledge of.
BRAM STOKER -
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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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.
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But this night our feet must tread in thorny paths, or later, and for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!
BRAM STOKER