Can you burn me up with holy water? Poke me to death with your crucifix? Pelt me with communion wafers?

You'll pay," she said stonily. "You won't be like this by this time tomorrow." "Bored and pissed off? God, I hope not.

Never, EVER give up. Not ever. Not EVER. Ever EVER!

Also,I loathe it when you refer to me as dude" Eric Sinclair to Betsy

The vampire bible, bound in human skin, written in blood, and full of prophecies that were never wrong. Trouble was, if you read the thing too long, it drove you nuts. Not "I'm having a bad day and feel bitchy" nuts or PMS nuts. "I think I'll commit felony assault on my friends and rape my boyfriend" nuts.

They weren't moving. Perhaps I was dazzling then with my ineptitude. It had happened before.

It never failed—I'd buy a new journal, write like a madwoman for ten pages, then lose total interest in the process. Three months later, I'd start the whole process all over again. I think I just liked buying new notebooks.