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I Resolved To Move Just A Little Bit More Slowly Through The World, To Look Around Myself With Greater Care, And To Try To Remain Conscious Of All That Was Going On Around Me At All Times.

-Anne Rice

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I Resolved To Move

Anne Rice

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I Resolved To Move Just A Little Bit More Slowly Through The World, To Look Around Myself With Greater Care, And To Try To Remain Conscious Of All That Was Going On Around Me At All Times.

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Your Quest Is For Darkness Only. This Sea Is Not Your Sea. The Myths Of Men Are Not Your Myths. Men's Treasures Are Not Yours.

I Enjoy The Web Site A Lot And I Like Being Able To Talk To My Readers. I've Always Had A Very Close Relationship With Them.

When I'm Writing, The Darkness Is Always There. I Go Where The Pain Is.

The Prince Is Never Going To Come. Everyone Knows That; And Maybe Sleeping Beauty's Dead.

I Read The Old Curiosity Shop Before I Began Blackwood Farm. I Was Amazed At The Utter Madness In That Book.

Without Memory There Can Be No Insight. Without Love, There Can Be No Appreciation.

Re-telling The Christian Story Is The Essence Of My Vocation. That Has Been Going On Since The Evangelists In One Form Or Another.

Evil Is A Point Of View ... God Kills, And So Shall We; Indiscriminately ... For No Creatures Under God Are As We Are, None So Like Him As Ourselves. God Kills Indiscriminately And So Shall We. For No Creatures Under God Are As We Are None So Like Him As Ourselves.

In A Way He Made Me Think Of A Child Doll, With Briliant Faintly Red-brown Glass Eyes - A Doll That Had Been Found In An Attic. I Wanted To Polish Him With Kisses, Clean Him Up, Make Him Evevn More Radiant Than He Was. "that's What You Always Want," He Said Softly... "when You Found Me Under Les Innocents," He Said, "you Wanted To Bathe Me With Perfume And Dress Me In Velvevt With Great Embroidered Sleeves." "yes," I Said, "and Comb Your Hair, Your Beautiful Russet Hair." My Tone Was Angry. "you Look Good To Me, You Damnable Little Devil, Good To Embrace And Good To Love.

Lestat: Toughen Up Baby. I'm Looking For The Eternal Scum.

As If It Were Our Very Birthright, Which We Could Not Come To Grasp The Meaning Of Until This Time Of Middle Life When We Looked On Only As Many Years Ahead As Already Lay Behind Us.

Sweet To Think On It, That When We Are Last Weary Of All This World There Is The Rising Sun

How Could Anyone Love Him? What Did You Just Tell Me Yourself About The World? Don't You See, Everybody Hates God Now. It's Not That God Is Dead In The Twentieth Century. It's That Everybody Hates Him! At Least I Think So.

There Is A Horrifying Loneliness At Work In This Time. No, Listen To Me. We Lived Six And Seven To A Room In Those Days, When I Was Still Among The Living. The City Streets Were Seas Of Humanity; And Now In These High Buildings Dim-witted Souls Hover In Luxurious Privacy, Gazing Through The Television Window At A Faraway World Of Kissing And Touching. It Is Bound To Produce Some Great Fund Of Common Knowledge, Some New Level Of Human Awareness, A Curious Skepticism, To Be So Alone.

I Think There Is A Modern Temper. The Authority Figures We Revered In The Past Are All Up For Grabs - They're Gone. We Are Groping For Meaning In A World Where Some Of Our Gods Have Died. We're Asking Ourselves, 'who Is Our True Brother And Sister, Where Is Our True Home?' The Modern Tempter Is Our Struggle To Lead Meaningful Lives, And Even If We Don't Believe In Religion, We Can Reach Down And Hold On To Our Core Values For Guidance.

I Promised That From Now On I Would Write Only For The Lord.

The Young Know How Truly Difficult And Dreadful Youth Can Be. Their Youth Is Wasted On Everyone Else, That's The Horror. The Young Have No Authority, No Respect.

In The Spring Of 1988, I Returned To New Orleans, And As Soon As I Smelled The Air, I Knew I Was Home. It Was Rich, Almost Sweet, Like The Scent Of Jasmine And Roses Around Our Old Courtyard. I Walked The Streets, Savoring That Long Lost Perfume.

Curses Of Vanished Elders Echoed Down On Me; Too Pretty, Too Soft, Too Pale, Eyes Far Too Full Of The Devil, Ah, That Devilish Smile

There's A Virtue,' Felix Said, 'to Listening To A Reluctant Storyteller. You Know That He Is In Fact Diving Deep For The Salvageable Truth.

I Know Nothing, Because I Know Too Much, And Understand Not Nearly Enough And Never Will.

Writers, As They Gain Success, Feel Like Outsiders Because Writers Don't Come Together In Real Groups.

Congratulations

And What Constitutes Evil, Real Evil, Is The Taking Of A Single Human Life. Whether A Man Would Die Tomorrow Or The Day After Or Eventually... It Doesn't Matter. Because If God Does Not Exist, Then Life... Every Second Of It... Is All We Have.

You Look Good To Me, You Damnable Little Devil, Good To Embrace And Good To Love.

In Spite Of All The Refinements Of Civilization That Conspired To Make Art--the Dizzying Perfection Of The String Quartet Or The Sprawling Grandeur Of Fragonard's Canvases--beauty Was Savage. It Was As Dangerous And Lawless As The Earth Had Been Eons Before Man Had One Single Coherent Thought In His Head Or Wrote Codes Of Conduct On Tablets Of Clay. Beauty Was A Savage Garden.

The Old Gods Will Bring About Vengeance Not So Much Because They Exist But Because I Once Honored Them.

That Process By Which You Become A Writer Is A Pretty Lonely One. We Don't Have A Group Apprenticeship Like A Violinist Might Training For An Orchestra.

Anger Is Too Pathetic. Anger Is As Weak As Fear.

The Greatest Create Of Power You Have On Earth, Whether You Are An Angel, A Spirit, A Man Or Woman Or Child Is To Help Others.

You Have Made Me Ashamed Of The Wasted Years. You Have Made Me Acknowledge That No Darkness Has Ever Been Deep Enough To Extinguish My Personal Knowledge Of Love. And All Around Me In This World I See Evidence Of Love. I See Love. I See It In The Human Struggle. I See Its Undeniable Penetration In All That Humans Have Accomplished In Their Poetry, Their Painting, Their Music, Their Love Of One Another And Refusal To Accept Suffering As Their Lot.

Personal Knowledge

It's Not So," I Said. "and How Long Do You Think It Will Sustain You, Feeling And Seeing And Touching And Tasting, If There Is No Love? No One With You?

There Are Too Many Other Inexplicable Things Around Us--horrors, Threats, Mysteries That Draw You In And Then Inevitably Disenchant You. Back To The Predictable And Humdrum. The Prince Is Never Going To Come, Everybody Knows That; And Maybe Sleeping Beauty's Dead.

Remember Always, He Said, That Nothing Is As Precious To Us As The Magnificent Gift Of Life. Let The Moon And The Stars Always Remind You Of This-that Though We Are Tiny Creatures In This Universe, We Are Filled With Life.

Every Moment Must Be First Known And Then Savored.

Do You Know What I Think About Crying? I Think Some People Have To Learn To Do It. But Once You Learn, Once You Know How To Really Cry, There's Nothing Quite Like It. I Feel Sorry For Those Who Don't Know The Trick. It's Like Whistling Or Singing.

Don't Be A Fool For The Devil, Darling.

The Whole Theme Of Interview With The Vampire Was Louis's Quest For Meaning In A Godless World. He Searched To Find The Oldest Existing Immortal Simply To Ask, What Is The Meaning Of What We Are?

When We Talk About Our Lives, Long Or Short, Brief And Tragic Or Enduring Beyond Comprehension, We Impose A Continuity On Them, And That Continuity Is A Lie.

What Is Fear After All? It Is Indecision. You Seek Some Way To Resist, Escape. There Is None.

I Grabbed Her Ankle And Kissed It, And When I Looked Up I Saw Her Chin And Her Eyelashes As She Threw Back Her Head And Laughed.

It Was Over Now, And The Meaningless World Was Tolerable And Need Not Be Explained. And Never Would It Be, And How Foolish I Had Ever Been To Think So.

Let Tears Gather In Your Eyes. You Haven’t Tears Enough For What You’ve Done To Me. Six More Mortal Years, Seven, Eight…i Might Have Had That Shape!’ Her Pointed Finger Flew At Madeleine, Whose Hands Had Risen To Her Face, Whose Eyes Were Clouded Over. Her Moan Was Almost Claudia’s Name. But Claudia Did Not Hear Her. ‘yes, That Shape, I Might Have Known What It Was To Walk At Your Side.

Your Love To Others, And Their Love For You, That The Increase Of Love In Life Itself Around You, Is What Matters.

I Picture Heaven As A Vast Library, With Unlimited Volumes To Read. And Paintings And Statues To Examine Galore. I Picture It As A Great Doorway To Learning...rather Than One Great Dull Answer To All Our Questions

I Wasn't Sent Here To Find Angels! I Wasn't Sent Here To Dream Of Them. I Wasn't Sent Here To Hear Them Sing! I Was Sent Here To Be Alive. To Breathe And Sweat And Thirst And Sometimes Cry.

I Can’t Help Being A Gorgeous Fiend. It’s Just The Card I Drew.

Who Knew That Better Than I, Who Had Presided Over The Death Of My Own Body, Seeing All I Called Human Wither And Die Only To Form An Unbreakable Chain Which Held Me Fast To This World Yet Made Me Forever Its Exile, A Specter With A Beating Heart?

Don't You See? I'm Not The Spirit Of Any Age. I'm At Odds With Everything And Always Have Been! I Have Never Belonged Anywhere With Anyone At Any Time!

The Worst Takes Its Time To Come, And Then To Pass.

Dear God, Help Me. Do Not Forget Me On This Tiny Cinder Lost In A Galaxy That Is Lost–a Heart No Bigger Than A Speck Of Dust Beating, Beating Against Death, Against Meaninglessness, Against Guilt, Against Sorrow.

I Am In Love With You', I Responded. He Laughed The Most Beguiling And Gentle Laugh. 'of Course You Are,' He Replied. 'i Understand Perfectly Because I'm In Love With Myself. The Fact That I'm Not Transfixed In Front Of The Nearest Mirror Takes A Great Deal Of Self-control.' It Was My Turn To Laugh.

Sometimes Fear Is A Warning. It's Like Someone Putting A Hand On Your Shoulder And Saying Go No Farther.

Our Language Needs Endless Synonyms For Beautiful; The Eyes Could See What The Tongue Cannot Possibly Describe.

A Starving Child Is A Frightful Sight. A Starving Vampire, Even Worse.

The Truth Is, Laughter Always Sounds More Perfect Than Weeping. Laughter Flows In A Violent Riff And Is Effortlessly Melodic. Weeping Is Often Fought, Choked, Half Strangled, Or Surrendered To With Humiliation.

I Was A Newborn Vampire, Weeping At The Beauty Of The Night.

Protect Your Voice And Your Vision. If Going On The Internet And Reading Internet Reviews Is Bad For You, Don’t Do It. … Do What Gets You To Write And Not What Blocks You. … Don’t Take Any Guff Off Anybody.

None Of Us Really Changes Over Time. We Only Become More Fully What We Are.

Changes Over Time

The Vampires Have Always Been Metaphors For Me. They've Always Been Vehicles Through Which I Can Express Things I Have Felt Very, Very Deeply.

The Earth Here Is Beautiful. And It Still Belongs To The Dead.

I Hear The Birds Singing. Listen. I Hear Them In Their Cage. The Others-all Our Kind Who Know Of Her-they Think Of Her As Heartless, But She Wasn't Heartless. She Was Only Aware Of Things Which I Didn't Learn Till So Many Decades Had Passed. She Knew Secrets That Only Suffering Can Teach.

It's An Awful Truth That Suffering Can Deepen Us, Give A Greater Lustre To Our Colours, A Richer Resonance To Our Words.

That Morning I Was Not Yet A Vampire, And I Saw My Last Sunrise. I Remember It Completely, And Yet I Can't Recall Any Sunrise Before It. I Watched The Whole Magnificence Of The Dawn For The Last Time As If It Were The First. And Then I Said Farewell To Sunlight, And Set Out To Become What I Became.

Wasn't It His Right To Listen To Opera, Read Poetry And Adventure Novels, Go To Europe Every Couple Of Months For Some Reason Or Another, And Drive His Porsche Over The Speed Limit Until He Found Out Who He Was?

Evil Is Always Possible. Goodness Is A Difficulty.

Oh, But When Love Is Reached Through Suffering, It Has A Power It Can Never Gain Through Innocence.

I'm Hoping What All Sentient Beings Hope ... That Somehow I'm Part Of Something Larger Than Myself, In Which I Play A Role, An Actual Role That Is Somehow Intended And Meaningful.

….it Was A Brave Man’s Fear. I Knew What He Meant. What Must A Brave General Feel When He Knows The Battle Has Gone Against Him And Nothing Remains But Death?

That Was My Nature - Going From Temptation After Temptation, Not To Sin, But To Be Redeemed.

Evil Is A Point Of View.

For Me, Places Have A Tremendous Impact. I Fall In Love With Places. All Of Life Seems Different In Different Places.

Falling In Love

I Feel Like An Outsider, And I Always Will Feel Like One. I've Always Felt That I Wasn't A Member Of Any Particular Group.

I Never Changed After That. I Sought For Nothing In The One Great Source Of Change Which Is Humanity. And Even In My Love And Absorption With The Beauty Of The World, I Sought To Learn Nothing That Could Be Given Back To Humanity. I Drank Of The Beauty Of The World As A Vampire Drinks. I Was Satisfied. I Was Filled To The Brim. But I Was Dead. And I Was Changeless.

The Highest Truths A Person Could Discover Were Rooted In The Natural World.

No Matter How Long We Exist, We Have Our Memories. Points In Time Which Time Itself Cannot Erase. Suffering May Distort My Backward Glances, But Even To Suffering, Some Memories Will Yield Nothing Of Their Beauty Or Their Splendor. Rather They Remain As Hard As Gems.

It Is Tragic That Many In America Think Of Us - Christians - As Being People Who Hate Others.

This Is A Lyrical Guide That Addresses The Deep Human Yearning To Make A Difference. It's Full Of Indelible Stories Reminding Us That, Yes, Helping People Is Hard-but It's Both Possible And Infinitely Rewarding. A Path Appears Offers Practical Steps That Any Of Us Can Take To Empower Others, And Ourselves.

Was It Fair To Say I Didn't Know The Full State Of My Soul?

I Congratulate Myself On Not Having Arrived Into The World Until The Present Time. This Age Suits My Taste.

It's An Awful Truth That Suffering Can Deepen Us, Give A Greater Lustre To Our Colours, A Richer Resonance To Our Words. That Is, If It Doesn't Destroy Us, If It Doesn't Burn Away The Optimism And The Spirit, The Capacity For Visions, And The Respect For Simple Yet Indispensable Things.

I Will Write Things, He Was Thinking. I Will Write Something Meaningful And Wonderful Someday. I Can Do That. And I'll Dedicate It To You Because You're The First Person Who Ever Made Me Think I Could.

I Think All Of Us Ordinary Mortals Tend To Mythologize People As Good-looking As You.

Paris Was A Universe Whole And Entire Unto Herself, Hollowed And Fashioned By History; So She Seemed In This Age Of Napoleon Iii With Her Towering Buildings, Her Massive Cathedrals, Her Grand Boulevards And Ancient Winding Medieval Streets - As Vast And Indestructible As Nature Itself.

Streets Of Paris

A Perfect World Or A World Destroyed, One Or The Other- Someday Will Come The End Of Hell.

And Books, They Offer One Hope -- That A Whole Universe Might Open Up From Between The Covers, And Falling Into That Universe, One Is Saved.

The Spirit Who Inhabits Her Animates Us All. Destroy The Host, You Destroy The Power. The Young Die First; The Old Wither Slowly; The Eldest Perhaps Would Go Last. But She Is The Queen Of The Damned, And The Damned Can't Live Without Her.

We Are Predators, Whose All-seeing Eyes Were Meant To Give Them Detachment.

To Learn And To Love, That Is What We Are Here For, Any Activity Which Is Not Grounded In One Of These Two Is A Waste Of Time.

I Knelt And Prayed, And The Strongest Truth Came Over Me. Didn't Matter If God In His Heaven Was A Catholic Or A Protestant God, Or The God Of The Hindus. What Mattered Was Something Deeper And Older And More Powerful Than Any Such Image - It Was A Concept Of Goodness Based Upon The Affirmation Of Life, The Turning Away From Destruction, From The Perverse, From Man Using And Abusing Man. It Was The Affirmation Of The Human And The Natural.

When I Realized That Reuben Was A Young Man Who Really Wanted To Be Taken Seriously, Because He Was Dismissed For Being Too Good Looking Or Because He Had Too Much Money - His Character Really Came To Life For Me. I Began To Understand That, And See That A Lot Of People Feel This Way - Misunderstood Because Of Their Talents Or Gifts Or Background.

Pride Is The Parent Of Destruction; Pride Eats The Mind And The Heart And The Soul Alive.

Memnoch The Devil Happen To Be My Favorite Of All The Vampire Chronicles.

[...] So Important To Believe In A Concept Of Goodness, Even If We Make It Up Ourselves. We Don't Really Make It Up. It's There, Isn't It?" "oh, Yes, It's There," She Said. "it's There Because We Put It There.

Fear Is Only Good When You Have A Choice In Things.

Memory Was A Curse, Yes, He Thought, But It Was Also The Greatest Gift. Because If You Lost Memory You Lost Everything.

Lost Everything

Obsession Led Me To Write. It's Been That Way With Every Book I've Ever Written. I Become Completely Consumed By A Theme, By Characters, By A Desire To Meet A Challenge.

This Evil, This Concept, It Comes From Disappointment, From Bitterness! Don't You See? Children Of Satan! Children Of God! Is This The Only Question You Bring To Me, Is This The Only Power That Obsesses You, So That You Must Make Us Gods And Devils Yourself When The Only Power That Exists Is Inside Ourselves? How Could You Believe In These Old Fantastical Lies, These Myths, These Emblems Of The Supernatural?

A Summer Rain Had Left The Night Clean And Sparkling With Drops Of Water. I Leaned Against The End Pillar Of The Gallery, My Head Touching The Soft Tendrils Of A Jasmine Which Grew There In A Constant Battle With A Wisteria, And I Thought Of What Lay Before Me Throughout The World And Throughout Time, And Resolved To Go About It Delicately And Reverently, Learning That From Each Thing Which Would Take Me Best To Another.

The Fans, The Vampire Groupies, Love The Idea Of This Androgynous, Preternatural Figure Stalking The Night, And Craving Aesthetic Pleasure Just As He Craves Blood, Wearing Only The Best Velvet Clothes, And Savoring Red Roses.

But During All These Years I Had A Vague But Persistent Desire To Return To New Orleans. I Never Forgot New Orleans. And When We Were In Tropical Places And Places Of Those Flowers And Trees That Grow In Louisiana, I Would Think Of It Acutely And I Would Feel For My Home The Only Glimmer Of Desire I Felt For Anything Outside My Endless Pursuit Of Art.

I Claim Dickens As A Mentor. He's My Teacher. He's One Of My Driving Forces.

I'm Usually Working On My Own Mythology, My Own Realm Of Created Characters. Stories In Mythology Inspire Me, Though I May Not Be Conscious Of It.

I Resolved To Move Just A Little Bit More Slowly Through The World, To Look Around Myself With Greater Care, And To Try To Remain Conscious Of All That Was Going On Around Me At All Times.

When I Write Something, Every Word Of It Is Meant. I Can't Say It Enough.

I Think Love Can Save The World. When We Love, We Completely Recognize The Value Of The Other.

I'm Always Looking, And I'm Always Asking Questions.

Asking Questions

But I Still Did Not Realize How Mad She Was, And How Accustomed To Dreaming; And That She Would Not Cry Out For Reality, Rather Would Feed Reality To Her Dreams, A Demon Elf Feeding Her Spinning Wheel With The Reeds Of The World So She Might Make Her Own Weblike Universe.

Drink From Me And Live Forever. Lestat De Lioncourt

Merciful Death. How You Love Your Precious Guilt

You Think I Live In The Past. You Don't Understand That I Actually Change With Every Era, I Always Have As Best I Can

Oh Lestat, You Deserved Everything That's Ever Happened To You. You Better Not Die. You Might Actually Go To Hell.

When We Are Weary, We Speak Lovingly Of Dreams As If They Embodied Our True Deisres-what We Would Have When That Which We Do Have So Sorely Disappoints Us

When You Make His Sandwiches, Put A Sexy Or Loving Note In His Lunch Box.

God, What Is It Like To Be You And Hear All Those People All The Time Everywhere, Begging, Imploring, Calling Out For Anything And Anyone?

For Several Long Moments We Remained Locked Together, And I Think I Covered Her Hair With Small Sacred Kisses, Her Perfume Crucifying Me With Memories.

Whipping Is Fifty Percent Show And Noise.

I Am Afraid Of Death. I Believe Nothing, And Therefore Like Many Who Believe Nothing I Must Make Something, And That Something Is The Meaning Which I Give My Life.

I Don't Believe In Anything, Mother," I Said. "you Told Armand Long Ago That You Believe You'll Find Answers In The Great Jungles And Forests; That The Stars Will Finally Reveal A Vast Truth. But I Don't Believe In Anything. And That Makes Me Stronger Than You Think

Yes, I Know," "and I Love To Hear You Say It, Louis. I Need To Hear You Say It. I Don't Think Anyone Will Ever Say It Quite Like You Do. Come On, Say It Again. I'm A Perfect Devil. Tell Me How Bad I Am. It Makes Me Feel So Good!

In The Name Of Christ, I Quit Christianity.

Time Can Tick When There Is No Clock.

Let The Flesh Instruct The Mind.

The Most Difficult Novel I Have Had To Write In Terms Of Just Getting It Done Was The Vampire Lestat. It Took A Year To Write.

As They Die, The Ones We Love, We Lose Our Witnesses, Our Watchers, Those Who Know And Understand The Tiny Little Meaningless Patterns, Those Words Drawn In Water With A Stick. And There Is Nothing Left But The Endless Flow.

Give Me A Man Or Woman Who Has Read A Thousand Books And You Give Me An Interesting Companion. Give Me A Man Or Woman Who Has Read Perhaps Three And You Give Me A Very Dangerous Enemy Indeed.

I Assume I Don't Need An Introduction.

Claudia... You've Been A Very Very Naughty Little Girl.

I Assume As A Child Jesus Had To Learn How To Do Carpentry, Learn Torah, Learn All The Things A Human Child Had To Learn. If He Was Human In All Ways Except That He Did Not Sin, This Must Have Been The Case.

I Gave Up On The Big Screen. The Witching Hour Was At Warner Bros. For 10 Years And It Just Didn't Work Out.

I'm Going To Keep On Dealing With The Supernatural In A Lot Of Ways.

We Have Such A Terrible, Terrible Misconception Of Science. We Think It Involves The Definite, The Precise, The Known; It Is A Horrid Series Of Gates To An Unknown As Vast Of The Universe; Which Means Endless.

Old Truths And Ancient Magic, Revolution And Invention, All Conspire To Distract Us From The Passion That In One Way Or Another Defeats Us All.

I Do Want To Go Another Way - To Write Something Completely Different.

I Was The Vampire Lestat Again. I Was Back In Action. New Orleans Was Once Again My Hunting Ground.

Some Mysteries Are Simply Irresistible,” She Said. “they Have Components That Alter A Life.

I Never Lie," I Said Offhand. "at Least Not To Those I Don't Love.

Nothing In All The World Is So Nonsensical And Contradictory, Save Mortals, That Is, Who Live In The Grip Of The Superstitions Of The Past.

Hell's Bells Ringing, My Secret Music.

I Want To Be A Saint. I Want To Save Souls By The Millions. I Want To Do Good Far And Wide. I Want To Fight Evil! I Want My Life-sized Statue In Every Church. I'm Talking Six Feet Tall, Blond Hair, Blue Eyes-.wait A Second.do You Know Who I Am?

There Are So Many Books I Mean To Read, And Things I Mean To See.

How Shameful. How Predictable! How Insipid. And How Sweet.

Many Christians Believe That The Vast Majority Of Those Created By God Will Burn In Hell For All Eternity. Many Christians Not Only Believe The World Will End Soon, But Are Looking Forward To It. I Must Walk Away From It All. In Jesus' Name.

Why Does Shame And Self-loathing Become Cruelty To The Innocent ?

Writers Write About What Obsesses Them. You Draw Those Cards. I Lost My Mother When I Was 14. My Daughter Died At The Age Of 6. I Lost My Faith As A Catholic. When I'm Writing, The Darkness Is Always There. I Go Where The Pain Is.

My Heart Right Now Is Totally Connected To A Book Called The Servant Of The Bones, Which Is Not In Any Way Connected With Vampires Or Witches. It's About A New Hero, A Ghost, Who Really Doesn't Particularly Like The Job That He's Been Given. I'm In Love With This Hero And In Love With His Dilemma.

We Breathe The Light, We Breathe The Music, We Breathe The Moment As It Passes Through Us.

My Own Funeral, I'd Like To Be Laid Out In A Coffin In My Own House. I Would Like My Coffin To Be Put In The Double Parlor, And I Would Like All The Flowers To Be White.

The One Thing You Share With Every Mortal Is Death.

Despair Was So Familiar To Me; It Could Be Banished By The Sight Of A Beautiful Mannikin In The Window. It Could Be Dispelled By The Spectacle Of Lights Surrounding A Tower. It Could Be Lifted By The Great Ghostly Shape Of St. Patrick's Coming Into View. And Then Despair Would Come Again.

What Does All This Mean Finally, I Kept Asking Like A College Kid. Why Does It Make Me Want To Cry? Maybe It’s That We Are All Outsiders, We Are All Making Our Own Unusual Way Through A Wilderness Of Normality That Is Just A Myth.

Consequently, If You Believe God Made Satan, You Must Realize That All Satan's Power Comes From God And So That Satan Is Simply God's Child, And That We Are God's Children Also. There Are No Children Of Satan, Really.

I Allowed Myself To Forget How Totally I Had Fallen In Love With Lestat's Iridescent Eyes, That I'd Sold My Soul For A Many-colored And Luminescent Thing, Thinking That A Highly Reflective Surface Conveyed The Power To Walk On Water.

The World Doesn't Need Any More Mediocrity Or Hedged Bets.

I Do Not Read The Ancient Languages, But I Am Beginning To Study Greek.

Suffering Of Sentient Beings Is Like Decay; It Fertilizes The Growth Of Their Souls.

I Am Not Times Fool, Nor A God Hardened By The Millennia; I Am Not The Trickster In The Black Cape Nor The Sorrowful Wanderer. I Have A Conscience. I Know Right From Wrong I Know What I Do And Yes, I Do It. I Am The Vampire Lestat. That's Your Answer Do With It As You Will.

It's So Easy To Wish For Death When Nothing's Wrong With You! It's So Easy To Fall In Love With Death, And I've Been All My Life, And Seen It's Most Faithful Worshippers Crumble In The End, Screaming Just To Live, As If All The Dark Veils And The Lillies And The Smell Of Candles, And Grandiose Promises Of The Grave Meant Nothing. I Knew That. But I Always Wished I Was Dead. It Was A Way To Go On Living

Falling In Love

Something In Me Was Responding Now As The Audience Responded, Not In Fear, But In Some Human Way, To The Magic Of That Fragile Painted Set, The Mystery Of The Lighted World There.

I Am Certain A Great Many Believers And Bible Readers Do Believe In Social Justice.

Yes. To Write A Novel Is To Risk My Sanity. The Deeper I Get Into The Suffering And Conflict Of The Characters, Into The Very Situations And Thoughts And Feelings That Make The Novel Worthwhile, The Worse I Feel, And The More Likely I Am To Be Severely Depressed When The Book Is Finished. There Is No Avoiding This: It Is The Result Of Attempting To Tell All You Know, To Reach For The Stars, To Write What Matters.

It Was As If This Night Were Only One Of Thousands Of Nights, World Without End, Night Curving Into Night To Make A Great Arching Line Of Which I Couldn’t See The End, A Night In Which I Roamed Alone Under Cold, Mindless Stars.

I Like Mainly To Be Invisible, To Sort Of Drift Around Unseen In The World.

Don't Be A Pawn In Somebody's Game. Find The Attitude Which Gives You The Maximum Strength And The Maximum Dignity, No Matter What Else Is Going On

You Are Someone Worth Loving

It Is Very Disturbing To See People Use Christianity And The Bible To Support A Certain Political Agenda, Especially When One Cannot Connect That Agenda With The Authentic Teachings Of Christ.

Go Where The Pleasure Is In Your Writing. Go Where The Pain Is. Write The Book You Would Like To Read. Write The Book You Have Been Trying To Find But Have Not Found. But Write. And Remember, There Are No Rules For Our Profession. Ignore Rules. Ignore What I Say Here If It Doesn't Help You. Do It Your Own Way. Every Writer Knows Fear And Discouragement. Just Write.the World Is Crying For New Writing. It Is Crying For Fresh And Original Voices And New Characters And New Stories. If You Won't Write The Classics Of Tomorrow, Well, We Will Not Have Any.

I Loved Words. I Love To Sing Them And Speak Them And Even Now, I Must Admit, I Have Fallen Into The Joy Of Writing Them.

We Need To Stop Fighting Christian Against Christian. I Have No Time For Anything But Trying To Love Other People. That Is A Full-time Job.

Perhaps This Is The Only Real Evil Left.

Everyone Is A Potential Naked Slave To You Once You Become A Trainer.

Keep Your Secrets Keep Your Silence It Is A Better Gift Than Truth

If I Haven't Put That On A T-shirt, I'm Going To. Actually, I Really Don't Want To Write Anything That Can't Be Put On A T-shirt. Actually I'd Like To Write Only On T-shirts. Actually, I'd Like To Write Whole Novels On T-shirts. So You Guys Could Say, 'i'm Wearing Chapter 8 Of Lestat's New Book, That's My Favorite; Oh I See You're Wearing Chapter 6-

Mortal Beauty Often Makes Me Ache, And Mortal Grandeur Can Fill Me With That Longing...but Paris, Paris Drew Me Close To Her Heart, So I Forgot Myself Entirely. Forgot The Damned And Questing Preternatural Thing That Doted On Mortal Skin And Mortal Clothing. Paris Overwhelmed, And Lightened And Rewarded More Richly Than Any Promise.

There Was No Point In Waiting Until The Next World. You Had To Do Everything Now, Every Kind Of Sin.

An Intoxication With Forbidden Knowledge In Which The Natural Things Become Unimportant.

What If I Could Give You Your Life Back; Pluck Out The Pain; And Give You A World Of Unimaginable Beauty That Would Be For All Time.

My Efforts With Hollywood Are Like Things Written In Water.

It Is Not Man Who Is The Enemy Of The Human Species. It Is The Irrational; It Is The Spiritual When It Is Divorced From The Material; From The Lesson In One Beating Heart Or One Bleeding Vein.

I'm Fascinated By Almost Any Mythology That I Can Get My Hands On...

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.

As The Roman Empire Came To Its Close, All The Old Gods Of The Pagan World Were Seen As Demons By The Christians Who Rose. It Was Useless To Tell Them As The Centuries Passed That Their Christ Was But Another God Of The Wood, Dying And Rising, As Dionysus Or Osiris Had Done Before Him, And That The Virgin Mary Was In Fact The Good Mother Again Enshrined. Theirs Was A New Age Of Belief And Conviction, And In It We Became Devils, Detached From What They Believed, As Old Knowledge Was Forgotten Or Misunderstood.

‎there's No Way To Cheat A Sensualist Like Me, Somebody Who Can Die Laughing For Hours Over The Pattern Of The Carpet In A Hotel Lobby.

I Love The World The Lord Has Created; I Love The Mountains, The Rivers, The Valleys, The Skies. I Love The Forests, The Fields, The Flowers. I Love The Mysteries Of Evolution And Dna And The Big Bang. I Want To Know The Majesties Of The Lord's Creation. I Cannot Close My Eyes To All This. I Cannot Turn Away From Science And Scientific Exploration.

And My Heart Beat Faster For The Mountains Of Eastern Europe, Finally, Beat Faster For The One Hope That Somewhere We Might Find In That Primitive Countryside The Answer To Why Under God This Suffering Was Allowed To Exist - Why Under God It Was Allowed To Begin, And How Under God It Might Be Ended. I Had Not The Courage To End It, I Knew, Without That Answer.

To Be Godless Is Probably The First Step To Innocence," He Said, "to Lose The Sense Of Sin And Subordination, The False Grief For Things Supposed To Be Lost." So By Innocence You Mean Not An Absence Of Experience, But An Absence Of Illusions." An Absence Of Need For Illusions," He Said. "a Love Of And Respect For What Is Right Before Your Eyes.

And What If I Never Go Of My Own Free Will? Will You Pitch Me From Some Window So That I Must Fly Or Fall? Will You Bolt All Shutters After Me? You Had Better, Because I'll Knock And Knock And Knock Until I Fall Down Dead. I'll Have No Wings That Take Me Away From You.

Artists Are Meant To Be Madmen, To Disturb And Shock Us.

I Cannot Mislead People Into Believing That I Support Organized Religion. In Jesus' Name, I Cannot Be Complicit With Many Of The Things Organized Religion Does.

How Pathetic It Is To Describe These Things Which Can't Truly Be Described.

I Wish We Had More Visible Christian And Catholic Leaders Who Talked About Love.

Dickens Is A Very Underrated Writer At The Moment. Everyone In His Time Admired Him But I Think Right Now He's Not Spoken Of Enough.

Advice To A New Writer: There Are No Rules In This Profession. Do What Is Good For You. Read Books And Watch Films That Stimulate Your Writing. In Your Writing, Go Where The Pain Is; Go Where The Pleasure Is; Go Where The Excitement Is. Believe In Your Own Original Approach, Voice, Characters, Story. Ignore Critics. Have Nerve. Be Stubborn.

Evil Is Just A Point Of View

It Draws It's Strength, This Big Secret, From The Same Root From Which I Draw My Strength, Both The Good And The Bad, Because In The End, They Cannot Be Separated.

As If The Night Had Said To Me, ‘you Are The Night And The Night Alone Understands You And Enfolds You In Its Arms’ One With The Shadows. Without Nightmare. An Inexplicable Peace.

I Never Knew What Life Was Until It Ran Out In A Red Gush Over Any Lips, My Hands!

Maybe A New Religion Will Rise Now. Maybe Without It, Man Will Crumble In Cynicism And Selfishness Because He Really Needs His Gods.

I Don't Know Why One Author Writes Westerns While Another Writes Detective Novels. You Don't Know Why. You Go Where The Intensity Is. I Feel Most Comfortable Writing About Monsters. It's Possible That I Feel Like A Monster Myself. Or Maybe It's Because We All Have A Monster Inside Of Us, A Vampire, A Ghost, A Witch Or A Werewolf. You Do It Because It Works And It Feels Really Right And Authentic.

Locked Together In Hatred. But I Can't Hate You Louis. Louis My Love, I Was Mortal Till You Gave Me Your Immortal Kiss. You Became My Mother, And My Father, And So I'm Yours Forever. But Now It's Time To End It, Louis. Now It's Time To Leave Him.

Maybe That's What Hell Is. You Go Mad. And All Your Demons Come And Get You Just As Fast As You Can Think Them Up.

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