I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him.
BRAM STOKERDoctor, you don’t know what it is to doubt everything, even yourself. No, you don’t; you couldn’t with eyebrows like yours.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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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 been so long master that I would be master still, or at least that none other should be master of me.
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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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I could not resist the temptation of mystifying him a bit, I suppose it is some taste of the original apple that remains still in our mouths.
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Because if a woman’s heart was free a man might have hope.
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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,
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Ordinary men, to whom all things are possible, don’t often, if ever, think of Heaven. It is a name, and nothing more, and they are content to wait and let things be, but to those who are doomed to be shut out for ever you cannot think what it means.
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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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How good and thoughtful he is; the world seems full of good men–even if there are monsters in it.
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But we are pledged to set the world free. Our toil must be in silence, and our efforts all in secret. For in 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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You yourself never loved; you never love! Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?
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It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from our sight.
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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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Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me yet that he even loves me.
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Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road, a long, agonized wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up by another dog, and then another and another, till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass.
BRAM STOKER