A brave man’s hand can speak for itself, it does not even need a woman’s love to hear its music.
BRAM STOKERWe 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.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain.
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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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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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A wild howling began, which seemed to come from all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night.
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A personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.
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Paris is a city of centralisation–and centralisation and classification are closely allied. In the early times, when centralisation is becoming a fact, its forerunner is classification. All things which are similar or analogous become grouped together, and from the grouping of groups rises one whole or central point.
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No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.
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Sleep has no place it can call its own.
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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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Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain.
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We see radiating many long arms with innumerable tentaculae, and in the centre rises a gigantic head with a comprehensive brain and keen eyes to look on every side and ears sensitive to hear–and a voracious mouth to swallow.
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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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For life be, after all, only a waitin’ for somethin’ else than what we’re doin’; and death be all that we can rightly depend on.
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Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer–both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.
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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.
BRAM STOKER