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.
BRAM STOKERI 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.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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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.
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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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Good women tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such things that angels can read.
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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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Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never more can the Count enter there Undead.
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We are able to learn from a failure, but perhaps not much from a success!
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No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.
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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.
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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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Though sympathy alone can’t alter facts, it can help to make them more bearable.
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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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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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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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For now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accurately must help sooth me.
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Whether it is the old lady’s fear, or the many ghostly traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual.
BRAM STOKER