Bram Stoker

What I saw was the Count’s head com­ing out from the win­dow. I did not

I was not alone. The room was the same, un­changed in any way since I came into it; I could see along the floor, in the bril­liant moon­light, my own foot­step

wan­ton­ness

Szgany came out, and see­ing them point­ing to my win­dow, said some­thing, at which they laughed. Hence­forth no ef­fort of

It is only when a man feels him­self face to face with such hor­rors that he can un­der­stand their true im­port.

. I sat down and simply cried.

man’s death is not a calf’s

big child-brain of his is

of the port there was a shout of joy from the mass of people on shore, a s

pic­tur­esque