Let me be accurate in everything, for though you and I have seen some strange things together, you may at the first think that I, Van Helsing, am mad. That the many horrors and the so long strain on nerves has at the last turn my brain.

Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!

Because if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope.

There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in part.

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 sane peoples.

For now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accurately must help sooth me.

I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him.