Quotes from Anne Rice

What a miracle, I thought. One tiny flame could make so many other flames; one tiny flame could set afire a whole world. Why, I had, with this simple gesture, actually increased the sum total of light in the universe, had I not?

Life is a gift. Immortality is a precious gift.

Carefully I opened my eyes and looked at him again. All his natural gifts were there in a blaze of light: the delicate but strong limbs, large sober brown eyes, and his mouth that for all the irony and sarcasm that could come out of it was childlike and ready to be kissed.

You understand the fundamental principle of an icon, don't you? "Inspired by God" "Not made by hands" "Supposedly directly imprinted upon the background material by God Himself" All Icons fundamentally were the work of God. A revelation in material form. And sometimes new icon could be made from another simply by pressing a new cloth to the original and a magic transfer would occur.

Killing is no ordinary act,' said the vampire. 'One doesn't simply glut oneself on blood.' He shook his head. 'It is the experience of another's life for certain, and often the experience of the loss of that life through the blood, slowly. It is again and again the experience when I sucked the blood from Lestat's wrist and felt his heart pound with my heart. It is again and again a celebration of that experience; because for vampires that is the ultimate experience.

Fear was once again breaking the shell around me so that something else could spring to life.

This is the only sun that you will ever see again. But a millennium of nights will be yours to see light as no mortal has ever seen it, to snatch from the distant stars as if you were Prometheus an endless illumination by which to understand all things.

Love me. You have destroyed everything! But if you love me, it can all be restored in a new form. Love me.

There is no normal life. There is only life.

Tell me–how old are you, Reuben? I'm thirty-eight. How is that for total honesty? Do you know many women who volunteer they're thirty-eight?

You are the pure embodiment of madness.

They know how bad they are. They don't care. They do what they do because...because they love it.

And won't the world be better if no one is ever again burnt in the name of God?" I asked. "If there is no more faith in God to make men do that to each other? What is the danger in a secular world where horrors like that don't happen?

Es tan fácil desear la muerte cuando se está sano! Es muy sencillo enamorarse de la muerte, como lo he estado yo toda mi vida, igual que he visto a sus adoradores más fieles venirse abajo en los últimos instantes, gritar porque deseaban seguir viviendo, como si los velos oscuros, los lirios, el olor de las velas y las grandiosas promesas de la tumba no significaran nada. Ya lo sabía, pero siempre deseé estar muerta. Era una forma de seguir viviendo.

One time Gifford had asked Mona: "What's the difference between men and women?" Mona had said: "Men don't know what can happen. They're happy. But women know everything that can happen. They worry all the time.

At last he stood staring at the old Reuben Golding he thought he knew so well, and neither had a word for the other that mattered.

She had no idea, really, what it meant to see a man's arm ripped out by the root, to see a head torn off a neck. She had no idea. We human beings live perpetually insulated from the horrors that happen all around us. No matter what she'd suffered, she had not witnessed the vicious ugliness of that kind of death. No, it had to be unreal to her, even Laura who had endured so much.

Save your kisses for the world, little one. - Magnus to Lestat before going into the fire.

He saw the face of his brother on Thanksgiving night, saw Jim's sad weary eyes, and his heart broke, as if his brother were more important than God himself, or God himself was speaking through Jim as he might speak through anyone put in our inevitable or accidental path, anyone who threatened to call us back to ourselves, who looked at us with eyes that reflected a heart as broken as our own, as fragile, as disappointed.

I had seen my becoming a vampire in two lights: The first light was simply enchantment... But the other light was my wish for self-destruction.

I crossed the street. The snow felt rather good, but then I'm a monster.

I read her thoughts and I found the poetry inside of her, beneath the misfortune of warts and pockmarked skin, of hunched shoulders and deformed limbs. I loved her. Indeed she became, whole and entire, quite beautiful to me—. And she came to love me with her whole heart.

Fear and music and blood and pain. That was still his existence.

We live forever; but they don't come back.