And Books, They Offer One

I Was In The Black Silence Of A Medieval Street, And Blindly I Followed Its Sharp Turns, Comforted By The Height Of Its Narrow Tenements, Which Seemed At Any Moment Capable Of Falling Together, Closing This Alleyway Under Indifferent Stars Like A Seam.

Believe In Angels? Then Believe In Vampires. Believe In Me. There Are Worse Things On Earth.

His Back Was Turned To The End Of The World And The End Of The World Was Quiet.

I Have To Move Away From Organized Religion. The Toxic Confusion And Anger I Was Feeling In Church Had Become Too Great.

Yet I Saw Crypts When I Looked At Him, And I Heard The Beat Of Kettledrums. I Saw Torchlit Fields Where I Had Never Been, Heard Vague Incantations, Felt The Heat Of Raging Fires On My Face. And They Didn't Come Out Of Him, These Visions. Rather I Drew Them Out On My Own. Yet I Never Had Nicolas, Mortal Or Immortal, Been So Alluring. Never Had Gabrielle Held Me So In Thrall. Dear God, This Is Love. This Is Desire. And All My Past Amours Have Been But The Shadow Of This." — Lestat De Lioncourt