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.
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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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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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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The blood is life… and it shall be mine!
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There was one great tomb more lordly than all the rest; huge it was, and nobly proportioned. On it was but one word, DRACULA.
BRAM STOKER -
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.
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But this night our feet must tread in thorny paths, or later, and for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!
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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?
BRAM STOKER -
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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Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me yet that he even loves me.
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The fame of an actor is won in minutes and seconds, not in years.
BRAM STOKER -
There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in part.
BRAM STOKER -
Loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings.
BRAM STOKER -
Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at your door and say, ‘May I come in?’ is not true laughter. No! He is a king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no person, he choose no time of suitability. He say, ‘I am here.
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Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the sky.
BRAM STOKER