Unknown

"Awan lalaki nga natured wenno nabaneg no ti babai ti sanguanan agsainnek."

"Ti ubing nga matungpal amin a kayatna, awan ti nasayaat a banagna."

"No aniá ti imúlam, isú ti apítem."

"Perdisión bagás, agráman tuyo."

"Yánud ti danúm ti matmatúrog nga udáng."

"No sáan nga makaammó nga nangtaliáw ti naggapuánna, saán a makadánon ti papanánna."

"Matáy ti agur-úray, mabiág ti paur-úray."

"If there is no patience, there will be no food."

"No awán ti ánus, awán ti lámot."

"Saánmo a mapadára ti awán dárana."

"Awán ti ngumáto a dínto bumabá."

"Ti agsíli magasángan, ket ti agiggém ti bánga maugingan."

"Ti kabálio no bulbuloden, ti ngípenna di kitkitáen."

"No agtúdo, matuduán ámin a táo."

"Uray isubsúbomon, mateppáyto láeng."

"Aluádam no matupraan met la ta rúpam."

"Di pay nalúto ti pariá simmagpáw ti karabása."

"Awan libég a di aglitnáw."

"Ti agmúla, agápit."

"Ti madí a pagbagbagaán agturóng ití pagrigátan."

"Sasáor banbannóg no sabáli ti aglamlámot."

"Naim-imbág ti matáy ta malipátanen ngem ti agbiág a maibabaín."

"Uray naáta tay tungo, no maisungród, sumgedtó."

"Nalpás ti áni, awán ti garámi."

"Ti napíli makapíli ti kuggangí."

"Ti útang mabayádan, ngem ti naimbág a nákem saán."

"Ti kamátis, di agbúnga ti manggá."

"Aniánto pay serbí diay rúot no natáyto met diay kabálion?"

"Let him who is honoured be meek."

"A writer who attempts in the nineteenth century to rehabilitate the ancient legends of the were-wolf and the vampire has set himself a formidable task. Most of the delightful old supersitions of the past have an unhappy way of appearing limp and sickly in the glare of a later day, and in such a story as Dracula, by Bram Stoker, the reader must reluctantly acknowledge that the region for horrors has shifted its ground. Man is no longer in dread of the monstrous and the unnatural, and although Mr. Stoker has tackled his gruesome subject with enthusiasm, the effect is more often grotesque than terrible. The Transylvanian site of Castle Dracula is skilfully chosen, and the picturesque region is well described. Count Dracula himself has been in his day a medieval noble, who, by reason of his "vampire" qualities, is unable to die properly, but from century to century resuscitates his life of the "Un-Dead," as the author terms it, by nightly draughts of blood from the throats of living victims, with the appalling consequence that those once so bitten must become vampires in their turn. The plot is too complicated for reproduction, but it says no little for the author's powers that in spite of its absurdities the reader can follow the story with interest to the end. It is, however, an artistic mistake to fill a whole volume with horrors. A touch of the mysterious, the terrible, or the supernatural is infinitely more effective and credible."

"It is said of Mrs. Radcliffe that, when writing her now almost forgotten romances, she shut herself up in absolute seclusion, and fed upon raw beef, in order to give her work the desired atmosphere of gloom, tragedy and terror. If one had no assurance to the contrary, one might well suppose that a similar method and regimen had been adopted by Mr. Bram Stoker while writing his new novel Dracula."

"Seven years ago we all went through the flames. And the happiness of some of us since then is, we think, well worth the pain we endured."

"But we are strong, each in our purpose; and we are all more strong together."

"You think to baffle me, you—with your pale faces all in a row, like sheep in a butcher's. You shall be sorry yet, each one of you! You think you have left me without a place to rest, but I have more. My revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side. Your girls that you all love are mine already. And through them you and others shall yet be mine, my creatures, to do my bidding and to be my jackals when I want to feed. Bah!"

"I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats."

"She has man’s brain—a brain that a man should have were he much gifted—and a woman’s heart."

"No one but a woman can help a man when he is in trouble of the heart."

"The world seems full of good men—even if there are monsters in it."

"My thesis is this: I want you to believe."

"You reason well, and your wit is bold, but you are too prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear, and that which is outside your daily life is not of account to you. Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are, that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplated by men's eyes, because they know, or think they know, some things which other men have told them. 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. But yet we see around us every day the growth of new beliefs, which think themselves new, and which are yet but the old, which pretend to be young, like the fine ladies at the opera."

"“Doctor, you don’t know what it is to doubt everything, even yourself. No, you don't; you couldn't with eyebrows like yours.”"

"And now we are all scattered; and for many a long day loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings. Lucy lies in the tomb of her kin, a lordly death-house in a lonely churchyard, away from teeming London; where the air is fresh, and the sun rises over Hampstead Hill, and where wild flowers grow of their own accord."

"“Friend John, forgive me if I pain. I showed not my feeling to others when it would wound, but only to you, my old friend, whom I can trust. If you could have looked into my very heart then when I want to laugh; if you could have done so when the laugh arrived; if you could do so now, when King Laugh have pack up his crown, and all that is to him — for he go far, far away from me, and for a long, long time — maybe you would perhaps pity me the most of all.” I was touched by the tenderness of his tone, and asked why. “Because I know!”"

"Do not think that I am not sad, though I laugh. See, 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. Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at your door and say, ‘May I come in?’ is not the 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.’ Behold, in example I grieve my heart out for that so sweet young girl; I give my blood for her, though I am old and worn; I give my time, my skill, my sleep; I let my other sufferers want that so she may have all. And yet I can laugh at her very grave — laugh when the clay from the spade of the sexton drop upon her coffin and say ‘Thud, thud!’ to my heart, till it send back the blood from my cheek. My heart bleed for that poor boy — that dear boy, so of the age of mine own boy had I been so blessed that he live, and with his hair and eyes the same. There, you know now why I love him so. And yet when he say things that touch my husband-heart to the quick, and make my father-heart yearn to him as to no other man — not even you, friend John, for we are more level in experiences than father and son — yet even at such a moment King Laugh he come to me and shout and bellow in my ear, ‘Here I am! here I am!’ till the blood come dance back and bring some of the sunshine that he carry with him to my cheek. Oh, friend John, it is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles; and yet when King Laugh come, he make them all dance to the tune he play. 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. And believe me, friend John, that he is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women are like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us different ways. Then tears come; and, like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps the strain become too great, and we break. But King Laugh he come like the sunshine, and he ease off the strain again; and we bear to go on with our labour, what it may be.”"

"I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us. A personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea."

"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, with such unknown horrors 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. Well, here I am to-night, hoping for sleep, and lying like Ophelia in the play, with “virgin crants and maiden strewments.” I never liked garlic before, but to-night it is delightful! There is peace in its smell; I feel sleep coming already. Good-night, everybody."

"He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own confidence two nights before and with the baneful result, felt awe and vague terror. It must have been my weakness that made me hesitate to tell it to my friend, but I felt it all the more, like unshed tears."

"Nothing is too small. I counsel you, put down in record even your doubts and surmises. Hereafter it may be of interest to you to see how true you guess. We learn from failure, not from success!"

"He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced scientists of his day; and he has, I believe, an absolutely open mind."

"Though sympathy can’t alter facts, it can help to make them more bearable."