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She was young and very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of death.

Bram Stoker

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Bram Stoker
Age: 64 †
Born: 1847
Born: November 8
Died: 1912
Died: April 20
Clerk
Journalist
Novelist
Screenwriter
Theatre Critic
Theatre Manager
Writer
Clontarf
Ireland
Abraham Stoker
Like
Pallor
Grey
Pale
Death
Beautiful
Young

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He may not enter anywhere at the first, unless there be some one of the household who bid him to come, though afterwards he can come as he please.
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The Dead travel fast.
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She has man's brain--a brain that a man should have were he much gifted--and woman's heart. The good God fashioned her for a purpose, believe me when He made that so good combination.
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We learn of great things by little experiences.
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The blood is life... and it shall be mine!
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All men are mad in some way or the other, and inasmuch as you deal discreetly with your madmen, so deal with God's madmen too, the rest of the world.
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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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I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air.
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These infinitesimal distinctions between man and man are too paltry for an Omnipotent Being. How these madmen give themselves away! The real God taketh heed lest a sparrow fall. But the God created from human vanity sees no difference between an eagle and a sparrow.
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She is one of God's women fashioned by His own hand to show us men and other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its light can be here on earth.
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Oh, why must a man like that be made unhappy when there are lots of girls about who would worship the very ground he trod on?
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Truly there is no such thing as finality.
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We are all drifting reefwards now, and faith is our only anchor.
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Oh, the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late the pain of the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, and with such unknown horror as it has for me! 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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Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere.
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This man belongs to me, I want him!
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I stood beside Van Helsing, and said- Ah, well, poor girl, there is peace for her at last. It is the end! He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity:- Not so alas! not so. It is only the beginning!
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Our toil must be in silence, and our efforts all in secret for this enlightened age, when men believe not even what they see, the doubting of wise men would be his greatest strength.
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The Stars are a long way off, and their words get somewhat dulled in the message.
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Never did tombs look so ghastly white. Never did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funeral gloom. Never did tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously. Never did bough creak so mysteriously, and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through the night.
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