“People in the arts often want to aim for the biggest, most obvious target, and hit it smack in the bull’s eye.”

Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me yet that he even loves me.

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.

Though sympathy alone can’t alter facts, it can help to make them more bearable.

I have learned not to think little of any one’s belief, no matter how strange it may be. I have tried to keep an open mind, and it is not the ordinary things of life that could close it, but the strange things, the extraordinary things, the things that make one doubt if they be mad or sane.

No man knows where the Castle of King Death is. All men and women, boys and girls, and even little wee children should so live that when they have to enter the Castle and see the grim King, they may not fear to behold his face.

I stood beside Van Helsing, and said;- “Ah, well, poor girl, there is peace for her at last. It is the end!” He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity:- “Not so; alas! not so. It is only the beginning!

Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!

I have cried even when the laugh did choke me. But no more think that I am all sorry when I cry, for the laugh he come just the same.

I’m a hard nut to crack, and I take it standing up.

Let me be accurate in everything, for though you and I have seen some strange things together, you may at the first think that I, Van Helsing, am mad. That the many horrors and the so long strain on nerves has at the last turn my brain.

I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us.

It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.

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.

Love is, after all, a selfish thing; and it throws a black shadow on anything between which and the light it stands.

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.

She has man’s brain–a brain that a man should have were he much gifted–and woman’s heart. The good God fashioned her for a purpose, believe me when He made that so good combination.

But my heart is always propped up in a field on its tripod, ready for the next arrow.

The probability that the bowman’s arrow hits the deer does not lie in the arrow or the deer. It lies in the bowman’s mind.

Hatha Yoga teaches us to use the body as the bow, asana as the arrow, and the soul the target.

Wait not while your foe fits arrow to bowstring when you can send your own arrow into him.

That … is how the world moves: Not like an arrow, but a boomerang.