We are in Transylvania, and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things. Nay, from what you have told me of your experiences already, you know something of what strange things there may be.
BRAM STOKERIt 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.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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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.
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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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Faith … that faculty which enables us to believe things which we know to be untrue.
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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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The Stars are a long way off, and their words get somewhat dulled in the message.
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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.
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I have a sort of empty feeling; nothing in the world seems of sufficient importance to be worth the doing.
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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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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.
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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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It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.
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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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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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I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him.
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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. A personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.
BRAM STOKER