It is ever thus that the things which we do wrong – although they may seem little at the time, and though from the hardness of our hearts we pass them lightly by – come back to us with bitterness.
BRAM STOKERAnd yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere ‘modernity’ cannot kill.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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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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The blood is life… and it shall be mine!
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For me, I say no, but then I am old, and life, with his sunshine, his fair places, his song of birds, his music and his love, lie far behind. You others are young. Some have seen sorrow, but there are fair days yet in store. What say you?
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Ah, we men and women are like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us in different directions.
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We learn of great things by little experiences.
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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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Denn die Todten reiten Schnell. (For the dead travel fast.)
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Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are; that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplate by men´s eyes, because they know -or think they know- some things which other men have told them..
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We learn from failure, not from success!
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The angels of the dark, restoring sight; We go — the pains of Day to soothe, console — Awake, arise! Behold thou art made whole.
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The Stars are a long way off, and their words get somewhat dulled in the message.
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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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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.
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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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He means to succeed, and a man who has centuries before him can afford to wait and to go slow.
BRAM STOKER