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 changes, we do not, therein lies the irony that kills us.
Goddamn it, do it yourself. You're five hundred years old and you can't use a telephone? Read the directions. What are you, an immortal idiot?
One will hate you for taking his life, another will run to excesses that you scorn. A third will emerge mad and raving, another a monster you cannot control. One will be jealous of your superiority, another shut you out... And the veil will always come down between you Make a legion, you will be, always and forever alone!
A starving child is a frightful sight. A starving vampire, even worse.
I lived like a man who wanted to die but who had no courage to do it himself.
Then, are you master of us all? You didn't teach her that. Was she supposed to imbibe it from my quiet subservience?
I can't help being a gorgeous fiend. It's just the card I drew.
Strong women are absolutely unpredictable.
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.
I love you still, that's the torment of it. Lestat I never loved. But you! The measure of my hatred is that love. They are the same! Do you know now how much I hate you!
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?
I tell you, we would be hard put to determine what is more evil -- religion or the pure idea. The intervention of the supernatural or the elegant abstract solution! Both have bathed this earth in suffering; both have brought the human race literally and figuratively to its knees.
The prince is never going to come. Everyone knows that; and maybe sleeping beauty's dead.
And he would listen, making only a few comments, always sympathetic, so that when I left him I had the distinct impression he had solved everything for me.
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.
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?
I'd thought I knew what beauty was in women; but she'd surpassed all the language I had for it.
We breathe the light, we breathe the music, we breathe the moment as it passes through us.
And I realized that I'd tolerated him this long because of self-doubt.
I was a newborn vampire, weeping at the beauty of the night.
You know nothing... And suppose the vampire who made you knew nothing, and the vampire who made that vampire knew nothing, and the vampire before him knew nothing, and so it goes back and back, nothing proceeding from nothing, until there is nothing! And we must live with the knowledge that there is no knowledge.
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.
Words. Borne on the ever swelling current of hatred, like flowers opening in the current, petals peeling back, then falling apart.
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.
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.
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.
Z ponurych proroków wieków minionych nowy wiek uczyni? g?upców
And then there came the pounding of another drum, as if another giant were coming yards behind him, and each giant, intent on his own drum, gave no notice to the rhythm of the other. The sound grew louder and louder until it seemed to fill not just my hearing but all my senses, to be throbbing in my lips and fingers, in the flesh of my temples, in my veins.
More Anne Rice Quotations (Based on Topics)
World - God - Beauty - Devils - Good & Evil - Books - Love - People - Christianity - Characters - Night - Education - Water - Music - Man - Life - Hell - Success - Children - View All Anne Rice Quotations
More Anne Rice Quotations (By Book Titles)
- Interview With the Vampire
- Memnoch the Devil
- The Queen of the Damned
- The Vampire Lestat
- The Witching Hour
Sidney Sheldon - Maxim Gorky - James Clavell - Jack Higgins - J. R. R. Tolkien - J. D. Salinger - Gabriel Garcia Marquez - Fyodor Dostoevsky - Anne Bronte - Aldous Huxley