The Truth Is Most Women Are Weak,

And Then There Came The Pounding Of Another Drum, As If Another Giant Were Coming Yards Behind Him, And Each Giant, Intent On His Own Drum, Gave No Notice To The Rhythm Of The Other. The Sound Grew Louder And Louder Until It Seemed To Fill Not Just My Hearing But All My Senses, To Be Throbbing In My Lips And Fingers, In The Flesh Of My Temples, In My Veins.

The Highest Truths A Person Could Discover Were Rooted In The Natural World.

As If It Were Our Very Birthright, Which We Could Not Come To Grasp The Meaning Of Until This Time Of Middle Life When We Looked On Only As Many Years Ahead As Already Lay Behind Us.

Lestat: I Despise You! I Ought To Destroy You-finish What I Started When I Made You. Turn You Into Ashes And Sift Them Through My Hands. You Know That I Could Do It! Like That! Like The Snap Of Mortal Fingers, I Could Do It. Burn You As I Burnt Your Little House. And Nothing Could Save You, Nothing At All.

Should We Put Out The Light? And Then Put Out The Light. But Once Put Out Thy Light, I Cannot Give It Vital Breath Again. It Needs Must Wither.