The blood is life… and it shall be mine!
BRAM STOKERA brave man’s hand can speak for itself, it does not even need a woman’s love to hear its music.
More Bram Stoker Quotes
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Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?
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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 suppose a cry does us all good at times-clears the air as other rain does.
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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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Once again…welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring.
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It is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles; and yet when King Laugh come he make them all dance to the tune he play.
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The blood is the life!
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Euthanasia” is an excellent and comforting word! I am grateful to whoever invented it.
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Oh, my dear, if you only knew how strange is the matter regarding which I am here, it is you who would laugh.
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I have learned not to think little of any one’s belief, no matter how strange it may be. I have tried to keep an open mind, and it is not the ordinary things of life that could close it, but the strange things, the extraordinary things, the things that make one doubt if they be mad or sane.
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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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Nature in one of her beneficent moods has ordained that even death has some antidote to its own terrors.
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It is really wonderful how much resilience there is in human nature. Let any obstructing cause, no matter what, be removed in any way, even by death, and we fly back to first principles of hope and enjoyment.
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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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The angels of the dark, restoring sight; We go — the pains of Day to soothe, console — Awake, arise! Behold thou art made whole.
BRAM STOKER