I do not, as you know, take sufficient interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. Dress is a bore.
BRAM STOKERMy revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at your door and say, ‘May I come in?’ is not true laughter. No! He is a king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no person, he choose no time of suitability. He say, ‘I am here.
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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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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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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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How good and thoughtful he is; the world seems full of good men–even if there are monsters in it.
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These infinitesimal distinctions between man and man are too paltry for an Omnipotent Being. How these madmen give themselves away! The real God taketh heed lest a sparrow fall. But the God created from human vanity sees no difference between an eagle and a sparrow.
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This man belongs to me, I want him!
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Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past.
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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.
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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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There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.
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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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There is a method in his madness, and the rudimentary idea in my mind is growing. It will be a whole idea soon, and then, oh, unconscious cerebration.
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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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Above the care of Nature and of State, Suspended in the noon of Night we wait, All slumber nursing, to make sweet and pure, While secret Nature, weaving works the cure. We are the handmaids of the hollow night,
BRAM STOKER