Truly there is no such thing as finality.

The blood is the life!

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

I saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with the horrible vindictive look which I knew so well.

You yourself never loved; you never love! Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?

Our toil must be in silence, and our efforts all in secret; for this enlightened age, when men believe not even what they see, the doubting of wise men would be his greatest strength.

We learn from failure, not from success!