Quotes from Anne Rice

Don't you understand that men will never do more than dream of peace?

Never had she seemed more alive, more purely human, more utterly natural in her rosy beauty-a thing not to be despoiled.

But what endures is what has always mattered: love—that we love one another as surely as we are alive. And

So by innocence you mean not an absence of experience, but an absence of illusions." "An absence of need for illusions," he said.

Why hadn't I realized that I was bringing into her presence one of the most alluring beings I've ever know?

Do you think we find our destiny somehow, no matter what happens? I mean, do you think that even as immortals we follow some path that was already marked for us when we were alive?

De ce te face asta la fel de rau ca oricare vampir? Nu exista gradatii ale raului? E raul cumva o prapastie periculoasa in care cadem dupa primul pacat, prabusindu-ne in adancuri?

I heard a sinister laughter, rumbling like low thunder over the moist soft sounds of their anguish and suffering. I heard a long, dry cruel laugh. I closed my eyes. I went deep deep inside myself. I lay in the dirt of the Monastery of the Caves, a wraith of myself, tumbled back into the softest and most terrible memories.

Child," he whispered. "Would I suffer such horrors if not for God?

What a sight I was in these big clothes. I must have looked like a mad poetical schoolboy who had raided thrift stores for the finest threads and was off now in fancy new shoes to search out the rock bands.

Seperti jiwaku yang sederhana,' bisik Khayman. 'Kau tersesat dalam semua ini karena kau terlalu mengenal medan. Dan seberapa pun jauhnya kau berjalan, kau akan kembali lagi ke pegunungan yang sama, ke bukit yang sama.

I had to know who this painter was. I had to see his work. I had fallen in love with him. Was he young? Was he old? Was he alive? Was he dead? I had to know.

She would turn to the Catholic Church to destroy the thing, she said, 'to the power of Christ, and His Holy Mother, and the saints.' We fought a terrible battle of words. I cried out: 'Don't you see that that is nothing but another form of witchcraft?

He was a boy dying here whom few would remember except for me.

The intimacy with evil is something which I must bear.

I could smell the catacombs on his garments. I could smell death on him as though he had lain down with his mortal remains. But he was handsome, fine of build and proportion as Avicus had been, not unlike Avicus at all.

It made a sound, did it not, that no one had ever heard in the ancient world, a sound so human and so powerfully affecting that men thought the violin the work of the devil and accused its finest players of being possessed.

I went soft. I saw the shocks of the blows as so many colors, and I thought to myself bitterly, ah, what beautiful colors, yes, colors. Then came the increased wails of my brothers. They too must suffer this, and what mental refuge did they have, these fragile young students, each so well loved and so well taught and groomed for the great world, to find themselves now at the mercy of these demons whose purpose was unknown to me, whose purpose lay beyond anything I could conceive.

thought of themselves as Irish, often making remarks to that effect; and that they emerged in the consciousness of many who knew them—servants and peers alike—as almost stereotypically Irish in their madness and eccentricity and penchant for the morbid. Several critics of the family have called them "raving Irish loonies.

Todos llevamos en nuestro corazón la semilla del odio hacia lo que es distinto. No tienen que enseñarnos esos sentimientos. Lo que tenemos que aprender es a no sucumbir a ellos. Los llevamos en la sangre; pero en nuestras mentes anida la caridad y el amor para superarlos.

I see these mortals in a more attentive light. They are so fresh, so exotic and yet so luscious to me, these mortals; they look like tropical birds must have looked when I was a child; so full of fluttering, rebellious life, I want to clutch them to have it, to make their wings flap in my hands, to capture flight and own it and partake of it.

He appeared the handsomest of men, his eyes utterly unclouded and almost fierce, and his cheeks beautifully flushed.

That incorrigible Quinn. He went deep into Sugar Devil Swamp, though everybody told him not to; he went to that accursed island Hermitage, and one night he just didn't come back.

There was no time for the old game, the game of drawing out those who wanted to die, those who truly craved my embrace, those in love already with the far country of death of which they knew nothing.