The Dead travel fast.
Ah, we men and women are like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us in different directions.
Doctor, you don’t know what it is to doubt everything, even yourself. No, you don’t; you couldn’t with eyebrows like yours.
The Stars are a long way off, and their words get somewhat dulled in the message.
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.
I have been so long master that I would be master still, or at least that none other should be master of me.
You yourself never loved; you never love! Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?
I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him.
The blood is the life!
No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.
But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to care not for.
Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic when the fit of escaping is upon him!
We learn of great things by little experiences.
There was one great tomb more lordly than all the rest; huge it was, and nobly proportioned. On it was but one word, DRACULA.
Let me be accurate in everything, for though you and I have seen some strange things together, you may at the first think that I, Van Helsing, am mad. That the many horrors and the so long strain on nerves has at the last turn my brain.
This man belongs to me, I want him!
Good women tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such things that angels can read.
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.
And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere ‘modernity’ cannot kill.
No one but a woman can help a man when he is in trouble of the heart.