Love is, after all, a selfish thing; and it throws a black shadow on anything between which and the light it stands.
BRAM STOKERThe blood is the life!
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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We are able to learn from a failure, but perhaps not much from a success!
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I have been so long master that I would be master still, or at least that none other should be master of me.
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Nature in one of her beneficent moods has ordained that even death has some antidote to its own terrors.
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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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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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There are such beings as vampires, some of us have evidence that they exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience, the teachings and the records of the past give proof enough for sane peoples.
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But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to care not for.
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Truly there is no such thing as finality.
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Remember my friend, that knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should not trust the weaker
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And so we remained till the red of the dawn began to fall through the snow gloom. I was desolate and afraid, and full of woe and terror. But when that beautiful sun began to climb the horizon life was to me again.
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Once again…welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring.
BRAM STOKER -
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.
BRAM STOKER -
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.
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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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Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall — all dance together to the music that he make with that smileless mouth of him.
BRAM STOKER