It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater lustre to our colours, a richer resonance to our words.

Who knew that better than I, who had presided over the death of my own body, seeing all I called human wither and die only to form an unbreakable chain which held me fast to this world yet made me forever its exile, a specter with a beating heart?

I can't get very far away from Christianity, I can't get very far away from the angels and the saints. I work them in always, in some way.

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

The only pain in pleasure is the pleasure of the pain.

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.

The prince is never going to come. Everyone knows that; and maybe sleeping beauty's dead.