But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to care not for.
BRAM STOKERWithin, 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.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him.
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We learn from failure, not from success!
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And then away for home! Away to the quickest and nearest train! Away from this cursed land, where the devil and his children stil walk with earthly feet!
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My revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side.
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It is something like the way dame Nature gathers round a foreign body an envelope of some insensitive tissue which can protect from evil that which it would otherwise harm by contact.
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Souls and memories can do strange things during trance.
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Euthanasia” is an excellent and comforting word! I am grateful to whoever invented it.
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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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Because if a woman’s heart was free a man might have hope.
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He may not enter anywhere at the first, unless there be some one of the household who bid him to come, though afterwards he can come as he please.
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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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She is one of God’s women fashioned by His own hand to show us men and other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its light can be here on earth.
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I do not, as you know, take sufficient interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. Dress is a bore.
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Take me away from all this Death.
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The fame of an actor is won in minutes and seconds, not in years.
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Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!
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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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Oh, the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late; the pain of the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, and with such unknown horror as it has for me!
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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.
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The only beautiful thing in the world whose beauty lasts for ever is a pure, fair soul.
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Paris is a city of centralisation–and centralisation and classification are closely allied. In the early times, when centralisation is becoming a fact, its forerunner is classification. All things which are similar or analogous become grouped together, and from the grouping of groups rises one whole or central point.
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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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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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No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.
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Enter freely and of your own free will!
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It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.
BRAM STOKER