I don't like myself you know. I love myself. I'm devoted to myself till my dying day. But I don't like myself.
Anne RiceDear God, help me. Do not forget me on this tiny cinder lost in a galaxy that is lostโa heart no bigger than a speck of dust beating, beating against death, against meaninglessness, against guilt, against sorrow.
Anne RiceAll the stories I have told you are finally as useless as all ancient knowledge is to man and to us. Its images and its poetry can be beautiful; it can make us shiver with the recognition of things we have always suspected or felt. It can draw us back to times when the earth was new to man, and wondrous. But always we come back to the way the earth is now.
Anne Rice