I was a newborn vampire, weeping at the beauty of the night.

Truth is a risky proposition. It's the nature of mediocre human beings to believe that lies are necessary, that they serve a purpose, that truth is subversive, that candor is dangerous, that the very scaffold of communal life is supported by lies.

I wasn't sent here to find angels! I wasn't sent here to dream of them. I wasn't sent here to hear them sing! I was sent here to be alive. To breathe and sweat and thirst and sometimes cry.

I'm definitely more influenced by European writers than I am by American writers, there's no doubt about that.

The vampires have always been metaphors for me. They've always been vehicles through which I can express things I have felt very, very deeply.

Oh, my darling, wish you were here! And my dark soul is happy again, because it does not know how to be anything else for very long, and because the pain is a deep dark sea in which I would drown if I did not sail my little craft steadily over the surface, steadily towards a sun which will never rise.

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