All my life,I’ve been afraid of things, as a child and a woman must be. I lied about it naturally. I fancied myself a witch and walked in dark streets to punish myself for my...

Without memory there can be no insight. Without love, there can be no appreciation.

In his refusal to believe in anything supernatural or inherently evil, he was as unrealistic as an old voodoo queen who sees spirits everywhere.

I never changed after that. I sought for nothing in the one great source of change which is humanity. And even in my love and absorption with the beauty of the world, I sought to...

I’m speaking of the character of human beings, not what they believe in. I’m speaking of those who won’t accept a useless life just because they were born to it. I mean those who would...

We have to become saints. We have to become like Christ. Anything less is simply not enough.

I can’t keep up with Stephen King’s output.

Would that death were like this. Would that one would sleep and sleep and sleep forever.

And this time as the lashes come, try to think about the pain, instead of against it, because there is not one single aspect of life, past, present, or future, that does not tear your...

Is there any one of us who doesn’t want to strike back at all the evil in this world?

Heaven would be Hell in no time if every cruel, selfish, vicious soul went to Heaven.

A starving child is a frightful sight. A starving vampire, even worse.

And oh, how she pitched herself into things. She would draw pictures all day long for weeks on end, then throw out the pencils and never draw another thing. Then it was embroidery with her,...

Goodnight sweet Prince, may flights of devils wing you to your rest….-Claudia DeLioncourt

Memnoch the Devil happen to be my favorite of all The Vampire Chronicles.

First-person narrators is the way I know how to write a book with the greatest power and chance of artistic success.

And he would listen, making only a few comments, always sympathetic, so that when I left him I had the distinct impression he had solved everything for me.

Who has a right to tell me I have no gift, no talent, no passion …’ he murmured. ‘Why do people say those things to you when youre young? Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”No, darling,...

I was feeling fear. Not a wild, mortal fear, but something cold like a hook in my side.

But to think there was meaning, a scheme to things, well, that was quite beyond her philosophical reach. She feared as she always had, that all that was ever meant was loneliness, hard work, striving...

They float upon the surface of the darkness in which I’m drowning.

Doesn’t matter now, devils who paint angels.”

When I write something, every word of it is meant. I can’t say it enough.

when we are weary, we speak lovingly of dreams as if they embodied our true deisres-What we WOULD have when that which we DO have so sorely disappoints us

Amazing what the British do with language; the nuances of politeness. The world’s great diplomats, surely.

I touched the small sacred images. I shook my head and bit my lip, as if to say, How awful that he should have stolen these! But I also found it very funny. And further...

I wanted to kiss her, she was beautiful again to me. But I dared not risk it. It wasn’t only that I would have frightened her, it was that the desire to kill her was...

[…] so important to believe in a concept of goodness, even if we make it up ourselves. We don’t really make it up. it’s there, isn’t it?””Oh, yes, it’s there,” she said. “It’s there because...

To really ask is to open the door to the whirlwind. The answer may annihilate the question and the questioner.

I claim Dickens as a mentor. He’s my teacher. He’s one of my driving forces.

Merciful death. How you love your precious guilt

Don’t be a fool for the Devil, darling.

I would die rather than live without you. I would die the same way he died. I can’t bear you to look at me the way you did. I cannot bear it if you do...

Consequently, if you believe God made Satan, you must realize that all Satan’s power comes from God and so that Satan is simply God’s child, and that we are God’s children also. There are no...

None of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are.

She had understood before she had ever dreamed of a city such as this, where every texture, every color, leapt out at you, where every fragrance was a drug, and the air itself was something...

To write something, you have to risk making a fool of yourself.

My own funeral, I’d like to be laid out in a coffin in my own house. I would like my coffin to be put in the double parlor, and I would like all the flowers...

We all suffer under a curse, the curse that we know more than we can endure, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing we can do about the force and the lure of this knowledge.

I am in love with you’, I responded.He laughed the most beguiling and gentle laugh.’Of course you are,’ he replied. ‘I understand perfectly because I’m in love with myself. The fact that I’m not transfixed...

Goddamn it, do it yourself. You’re five hundred years old and you can’t use a telephone? Read the directions. What are you, an immortal idiot?

You do not know your vampire nature. You are like an adult who, looking back on his childhood, realizes that he never appreciated it. You cannot, as a man, go back to the nursery and...

She had learnt a painful lesson, she thought – that as they die, the ones we love, we lose our witnesses, our watchers, those who know and understand the tiny little meaningless patterns, those words...

I know nothing of God or the Devil. I have never seen a vision nor learned a secret that would damn or save my soul.

God kills indescriminantly, and so shall we. For no creatures under God are as we are, none so like him as ourselves.

Writers, as they gain success, feel like outsiders because writers don’t come together in real groups.

I never lie,” I said offhand. “At least not to those I don’t love.

Sometimes it seems that light can transform anything! That it is an undeniable and irreducible metaphor for grace. But do the people of the ranchitos know this? Is it for beauty that they do it?...

Who could trust language?

Lestat: Toughen up baby. I’m looking for the eternal scum.