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

What is fear after all? It is indecision. You seek some way to resist, escape. There is none.

Don't bend; don't water it down; don't try to make it logical; don't edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly. Only if you do that can you hope to make the reader feel every particle of what you, the writer, have known and feel compelled to share."---Forward to Kafka's Short stories

Hell's Bells ringing, my secret music.

There's a virtue,' Felix said, 'to listening to a reluctant storyteller. You know that he is in fact diving deep for the salvageable truth.

I left Christianity because I wanted to be a moral person. That is why I left. I no longer believed in its lies.

In the spring of 1988, I returned to New Orleans, and as soon as I smelled the air, I knew I was home. It was rich, almost sweet, like the scent of jasmine and roses around our old courtyard. I walked the streets, savoring that long lost perfume.