It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.

I have been so long master
that I would be master still, or at least that none other
should be master of me.

. . . a wind howling began, which seemed to form all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night.

There are vampires. They are real, they are of our time, and they are here, close by, stalking us as we sleep...

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

Denn die Todten reiten Schnell. (For the dead travel fast.)