In the very depths of Hell, do not demons love one another?
Truth is a risky proposition. It’s the nature of mediocre human beings to believe that lies are necessary, that they serve a purpose, that truth is subversive, that candor is dangerous, that the very scaffold of communal life is supported by lies.
Heaven would be Hell in no time if every cruel, selfish, vicious soul went to Heaven.
I think love can save the world. When we love, we completely recognize the value of the other.
We breathe the light, we breathe the music, we breathe the moment as it passes through us.
When we love and want nothing but good for that person, it’s one of the greatest gifts we possess.
There is one purpose to life and one only: to bear witness to and understand as much as possible of the complexity of the world- its beauty, its mysteries, its riddles.
Making a film, I’ve learned, can be an exhausting process, due to the need for backing, distribution, etc.
A starving child is a frightful sight. A starving vampire, even worse.
It’s an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater lustre to our colours, a richer resonance to our words.
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.
Be kind. Always if you have a choice, be kind.
I can’t believe the world was created in six days. I do not take Genesis or Revelation literally. I AM OUT. I am alone. I am an outsider for Christ. I will study my Bible, and pray to God in private and alone. I have no other choice.
I can’t help being a gorgeous fiend. It’s just the card I drew.
I was a newborn vampire, weeping at the beauty of the night.
If I am an angel, paint me with black wings.
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.
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.
I was the vampire Lestat again. I was back in action. New Orleans was once again my hunting ground.
I am an unwilling devil. I cry like some vagrant child. I want to go home.