My revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side.
BRAM STOKERThe only beautiful thing in the world whose beauty lasts for ever is a pure, fair soul.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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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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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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Once again…welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring.
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Doctor, you don’t know what it is to doubt everything, even yourself. No, you don’t; you couldn’t with eyebrows like yours.
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I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!
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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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The only beautiful thing in the world whose beauty lasts for ever is a pure, fair soul.
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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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As yet we know nothing of what goes to create or evoke the active spark of life.
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You cannot guess or measure the terrible endless longing to see the gates opened, and to be able to join the white figures within.
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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 saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with the horrible vindictive look which I knew so well.
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A brave man’s hand can speak for itself, it does not even need a woman’s love to hear its music.
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He means to succeed, and a man who has centuries before him can afford to wait and to go slow.
BRAM STOKER






