Quotes from Anne Rice

You are for me. That was my answer for him. The soft words in Russian I gave to him through the Mind Gift. Remember. Who were you before you came here? Before they hurt you? Go back. Go back to the ikon. Go back to the Face of Christ if need be.

He was enchanted for these small moments, and patiently, I let them pass.

How could anyone ever trust Cary Grant, I wondered—a man who looked as though he were made entirely of wood?

Poetry belongs to everyone.

I felt I saw an escape from desolation, only it was cold and dark, this escape, and it led by twists and turns into a world of eternal darkness where the raw earth gave the only smell to one's hands, one's skin, one's clothes.

I was weak from the heat of my own miserable thoughts.

And I knew the step on the stairs. I knew the step on the porch. It was Lestat.

Wergeld, my Maker," said Thorne. "As it was in my time, I exact the wergeld or payment for my own life, which you took when you made a blood drinker. I take it through Santino's life, which I take beneath your roof.

The silence of the golden room answered. It was as cold as the shrine in the mountains. I

thrown at you in every drugstore, the public has no accurate memory of anything; every social problem is observed in relation to 'norms' which in fact never existed, people fancy themselves 'deprived' of luxuries and peace and quiet which in fact were never common to any people anywhere at all.

It gave me no hope to see him doing these simple things with the sluggishness of a somnambulist. It proved nothing more than that he could go like this forever, our silent accomplice, little more than a resuscitated corpse.

In spite of Pops trying to restrain me I followed the sheriff all the way to his car, hammering on him about those two bodies: 'You've got to check and see who's missing! I'm telling you, I saw it. Two bodies, just dumped out there. You've got to search.

Mozart was always my happy guardian, the Little Genius, I called him

The cafe au lait was strong and delicious. Five years among the Undead can't kill the memory. Nothing ever will.

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 seems that there are minds who would weave it all together, every myth, or its essence, to make a glorious tapestry.

Don't you sense the danger?' I whispered to her. 'Can't you breathe it like the air?

How could I take from this boy the cup he'd barely tasted? He was a dead creature brought back to life.

But the name was astonishing: 'Théâtre des Vampires,' and the time noted, nine p.m.

Nos descubrimos en nuestras pasiones y nuestros fracasos, pero también en nuestro reposo y en nuestros sueños.

All images and meaningful glimpses do but teach you deeper things, I thought again, as I had in the Temple, when I had settled for the consolation of a basalt statue.

I knew that things human would lose all love of this place, as they had lost their love of so many ruins in the country round.

It was as if that distant bed were a stage and on the linen pillows of the little stage lay that boy, his black hair parted in the middle and curling about his ears, so that he looked now in his dream, fevered state like one of those lithe androgynous creatures of a Botticelli painting; and beside him, nestled against him, her tiny white hand stark against his flesh lay Claudia, her face buried in his neck.

fancy traps to capture a past that had never existed, to create a feeling of solidity for people who lived moment to moment in a fear of death bordering on hysteria.