And I Realized That I’d Tolerated Him

Yet I Saw Crypts When I Looked At Him, And I Heard The Beat Of Kettledrums. I Saw Torchlit Fields Where I Had Never Been, Heard Vague Incantations, Felt The Heat Of Raging Fires On My Face. And They Didn't Come Out Of Him, These Visions. Rather I Drew Them Out On My Own. Yet I Never Had Nicolas, Mortal Or Immortal, Been So Alluring. Never Had Gabrielle Held Me So In Thrall. Dear God, This Is Love. This Is Desire. And All My Past Amours Have Been But The Shadow Of This." — Lestat De Lioncourt

Old Truths And Ancient Magic, Revolution And Invention, All Conspire To Distract Us From The Passion That In One Way Or Another Defeats Us All.

It's An Awful Truth That Suffering Can Deepen Us, Give A Greater Lustre To Our Colours, A Richer Resonance To Our Words. That Is, If It Doesn't Destroy Us, If It Doesn't Burn Away The Optimism And The Spirit, The Capacity For Visions, And The Respect For Simple Yet Indispensable Things.

Louis: You See That Old Woman? That Will Never Happen To You. You Will Never Grow Old, And You Will Never Die. Claudia: And It Means Something Else Too, Doesn't It? I Shall Never Ever Grow Up.

We Shall Live Even In This State Of Living Death, We Shall Love, We Shall Feel, We Shall Defy All Who Would Judge And Destroy Us.