Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me yet that he even loves me.
BRAM STOKERThe only beautiful thing in the world whose beauty lasts for ever is a pure, fair soul.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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I will not let you go into the unknown alone.
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For life be, after all, only a waitin’ for somethin’ else than what we’re doin’; and death be all that we can rightly depend on.
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There are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely.
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We are all drifting reefwards now, and faith is our only anchor.
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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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Nature in one of her beneficent moods has ordained that even death has some antidote to its own terrors.
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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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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.
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I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us. A personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.
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Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the sky.
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I saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with the horrible vindictive look which I knew so well.
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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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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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And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere ‘modernity’ cannot kill.
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Loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings.
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