Your quest is for darkness only. This sea is not your sea. The myths of men are not your myths. Men's treasures are not yours.

I was obsessed with religious questions, the basics: Why are we here? Why is the world so beautiful?

The greatest create of power you have on earth, whether you are an angel, a spirit, a man or woman or child is to help others.

I was the vampire Lestat again. I was back in action. New Orleans was once again my hunting ground.

I had wanted to say that my song was far too painful to sing.

I didn’t look to the shore much after this first long and memorable glimpse. I looked up at Heaven and her court of mythical creatures fixed forever in the all powerful and inscrutable stars. Ink black was the night beyond them, and they so like jewels that old poetry came back to me, the sound even of hymns sung only by men.

People who cease to believe in God or goodness altogether still believe in the devil. I don't know why. No, I do indeed know why. Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult.