Sweet to think on it, that when we are last weary of all this world there is the rising sun
Anne RiceFor several long moments we remained locked together, and I think I covered her hair with small sacred kisses, her perfume crucifying me with memories.
Anne RiceI saw the Light,saw the myriad spirits flying loose up the Tunnel towards the celestial blaze, the Tunnel perfectly round and widening as they rose and for one blessed moment, one blessed tiny instant, the songs of Heaven resounded down the tunnel as if its curves were not made of wind but of something solid that could echo these ethereal songs, and their organized rhythm, their heartbreaking beauty piercing the catastrophic suffering of this place-Lestat
Anne Rice