My dear Mina, why are men so noble when we women are so little worthy of them? Here was I almost making fun of this great hearted, true gentleman. I burst into tears, I am afraid, my dear, you will think this a very sloppy letter in more ways than one, and I really felt very badly.
This time there could be no error, for the man was close to me, and I could see him over my shoulder. But there was no reflection of him in the mirror!
A single lie discovered is enough to create doubt in every truth expressed.
When the Count saw my face, his eyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat. I drew away, and his hand touched the string of beads which held the crucifix. It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so quickly that I could hardly believe that it was ever there.
Trust yourself. You’ve survived a lot and you will survive whatever is coming.
I heard once of an American who so defined faith: ‘that faculty which enables us to believe things which we know to be untrue.’ For one, I follow that man. He meant that we shall have an open mind, and not let a little bit of truth check the rush of the big truth, like a small rock does a railway truck. We get the small truth first. Good! We keep him, and we value him, but all the same we must not let him think himself all the truth in the universe.
In his speaking of things and people, and especially of battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them all.
Bogies is rats, and rats is bogies!
Mr. Salton had all his life been an early riser, and necessarily an early waker.
Fortunately, I am not of a fainting disposition.
After all, he was only a man, with a man’s dislike of difficult or awkward situations.
I felt it all the more, like unshed tears.
Amo la sombra y la oscuridad, y prefiero, cuando puedo, estar a solas con mis pensamientos.
Friend John, I pity your poor bleeding heart; and I love you the more because it does so bleed.
Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall.
We must go through bitter waters before we reach the sweet.
You think then that those so small holes in the children’s throats were made by the same that made the hole in Miss Lucy?” “I suppose so.” He stood up and said solemnly: – “Then you are wrong. Oh, would it were so! but alas! no. It is worse, far, far worse.” “In God’s name, Professor Van Helsing, what do you mean?” I cried. He threw himself with a despairing gesture into a chair, and placed his elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands as he spoke: – “They were made by Miss Lucy!
I long to go through the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its change, its death, and all that makes it what it is.
Well, you know what we have to contend against; but we, too, are not without strength. We have on our side power of combination – a power denied to the vampire kind; we have resources of science; we are free to act and think; and the hours of the day and the night are ours equally.
But to fail here, is not mere life or death. It is that we become as him; that we henceforward become foul things of the night like him –without heart or conscience, preying on the bodies and the souls of those we love best.