Can we all just take a minute to appreciate how poetic and beautifully Bram Stoker just described a blood transfusion… like come on, he wrote this in like the late 1800s! To describe a blood transfusion!!!
For all I am keen to point out Stoker’s faults, if there is one thing I think that guy was all about, it was friendship. The way he wrote with regards to Whitman, Irving, Caine, Terry, Tennyson… just about anybody to whom he felt close; he just seems such a completely earnest sweetheart of a human being when it came to that stuff.