There is a method in his madness, and the rudimentary idea in my mind is growing. It will be a whole idea soon, and then, oh, unconscious cerebration.
I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.
How good and thoughtful he is; the world seems full of good men--even if there are monsters in it.
But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to care not for.
Water sleeps, and the enemy is sleepless.
There are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely.
Is it possible that love is all subjective, or all objective?
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?
Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me yet that he even loves me.
There is a reason why all things are as they are.
The world seems full of good men, even if there are monsters in it.
She was young and very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of death.
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 ar...
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 myst...
I have a sort of empty feeling; nothing in the world seems of sufficient importance to be worth the doing.
Euthanasia is an excellent and comforting word! I am grateful to whoever invented it.
Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic when the fit of escaping is upon him!
There are such beings as vampires, some of us have evidence that they exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience, the teachings and the records of the past give proof enough for sa...
The last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing his hand to me, with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a smile that Judas in hell might be proud of.
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.