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.
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.
We shall live even in this state of living death, we shall love, we shall feel, we shall defy all who would judge and destroy us.
Oh, the lies that I have told myself and others. I knew it yet I didn’t know.
I am the Vampire Lestat. I’m immortal more or less. The light of the sun, the sustained heat of an intense fire-these things might destroy me. But then again, they might not.
It seems an insult to the night to speak of purpose and intent, when this common moment is so brimming full of blessed design tranquility. All things follow their course.
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.
Oh to have you with me, to have you here, not to be alone, but to be with you, my beauty, you of all souls! You.
Was it fair to say I didn’t know the full state of my soul?
You see that old woman? That will never happen to you. You will never grow old, and you will never die. And it means something else too, doesn’t it? I shall never ever grow up.
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.
I was good and bad, but never wicked.
I assume I don’t need an introduction.
I congratulate myself on not having arrived into the world until the present time. This age suits my taste.
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.
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.
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.
The worst takes its time to come, and then to pass.
In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity.
Whipping is fifty percent show and noise.