No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.
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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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.
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But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to care not for.
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The blood is the life!
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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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It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.
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Truly there is no such thing as finality.
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Euthanasia” is an excellent and comforting word! I am grateful to whoever invented it.
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She was young and very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of death.
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Our toil must be in silence, and our efforts all in secret; for 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’m a hard nut to crack, and I take it standing up.
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Our toil must be in silence, and our efforts all in secret; for 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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We see radiating many long arms with innumerable tentaculae, and in the centre rises a gigantic head with a comprehensive brain and keen eyes to look on every side and ears sensitive to hear–and a voracious mouth to swallow.
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Then they will see that, perhaps, they too have some of the same fault in themselves – although perhaps it does not come out in the same way – and then they must try to conquer that fault.
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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 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.
BRAM STOKER