Quotes by Anne Rice

I didnt want to be in hell, even for a moment. I sure as hell wasnt going there just to spit in the face of the Prince of Darkness, whoever he might be!On the contrary, if I was a damned thing, then let the son of a bitch come for me! Let him tell me why I was mean to suffer. I would truly like to know.As for oblivion, well, we can wait a little while for that.

Consequently, if you believe God made Satan, you must realize that all Satans power comes from God and so that Satan is simply Gods child, and that we are Gods children also. There are no children of Satan, really.

I never knew what life was until it ran out in a red gush over any lips, my hands!

I am the Vampire Lestat. Im immortal more or less. The light of the sun, the sustained heat of an intense fire-these things might destroy me. But then again, they might not.

Let the flesh instruct the mind.

Should we put out the light? And then put out the light. But once put out thy light, I cannot give it vital breath again. It needs must wither.

What lurked beneath my fancy frills, behind my quiet unquestioning eyes? Who was I? Had I no remembrance of a warmer flame than that which gave its wintry glow to my faint smile at those who asked it of me? I remembered no one who had ever lived and breathed within my quietly moving form~ The Vampire Armand

I think we are wise, we English speakers, to savor accents. They teach us things about our own tongue.

Good was above all kind; it was to be gentle. It was to waste nothing. It was to paint, to read, to study, to listen.

Life is a tragedy, one way or another. What is certain is that you die.

But remember the overall lesson, that your love for others, and their love for you, that the increase of love in life itself around you, is what matters.

For what can the damned really have to say to the damned?

... from the classically executed lifelike bouquets, tempting you to reach for the petals that fell on a three-dimensional tablecloth, to a new and disturbing style in which the colors seemed to blaze with such intensity they destroyed the old lines, the old solidity, to make a vision like those states which Im nearest my delirium and flowers grow before my eyes and crackle like the flames of lamps.

Being a vampire for him meant revenge. Revenge against life itself. Every time he took a life it was revenge. It was no wonder, then, that he appreciated nothing. The nuances of vampire existence werent even available to him because he was focused with a maniacal vengeance upon the mortal life hed left. Consumed with hatred, he looked back. Consumed with envy, nothing pleased him unless he could take it from others; and once having it, he grew cold and dissatisfied, not loving the thing for itself; and so he went after something else. Vengeance, blind and sterile and contemptible.

I wish I could, laughed the vampire. How positively delightful. I should like to pass through all manner of different keyholes and feel the tickle of their peculiar shapes. No. He shook his head. That is, how would you say today . . . bullshit?

I was feeling fear. Not a wild, mortal fear, but something cold like a hook in my side.

Louis found me in the rear parlor, the one more distant from the noises of the tourists in the Rue Royale, and with its windows open to the courtyard below. I was in fact looking out the window, looking for the cat again, though I didnt tell myself so, and observing how our bougainvillea had all but covered the high walls that enclosed us and kept us safe from the rest of the world. The wisteria was also fierce in its growth, even reaching out from the brick walls to the railing of the rear balcony and finding its way up to the roof. I could never quite take for granted the lush flowers of New Orleans. Indeed, they filled me with happiness whenever I stopped to really look at them and surrender to their fragrance, as though I still had the right to do so, as though I still were part of nature, as though I were still a mortal man.

You do not know your vampire nature. You are like an adult who, looking back on his childhood, realizes that he never appreciated it. You cannot, as a man, go back to the nursery and play with your toys, asking for the love and care to be showered on you again simply because now you know their worth. So it is with you and mortal nature. Youve given it up. You no longer look through a glass darkly. But you cannot pass back to the world of human warmth with your new eyes.

Ah, come now. I look like an angel, but Im not. The old rules of nature encompass many creatures like me. Were beautiful like the diamond-backed snake, or the striped tiger, yet were merciless killers

But I still did not realize how mad she was, and how accustomed to dreaming; and that she would not cry out for reality, rather would feed reality to her dreams, a demon elf feeding her spinning wheel with the reeds of the world so she might make her own weblike universe.