A starving child is a frightful sight. A starving vampire, even worse.
It was as if this night were only one of thousands of nights, world without end, night curving into night to make a great arching line of which I couldn’t see the end, a night in which I roamed alone under cold, mindless stars.
I know nothing, because I know too much, and understand not nearly enough and never will.
And I realized that I’d tolerated him this long because of self-doubt.
I do not read the ancient languages, but I am beginning to study Greek.
We all suffer under a curse, the curse that we know more than we can endure, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing we can do about the force and the lure of this knowledge.