Evil Is A Point Of View.

His Blood Coursed Through My Veins Sweeter Than Life Itself. And As It Did, Lestats Words Made Sense To Me. I Knew Peace Only When I Killed And When I Heard His Heart In That Terrible Rhythm, I Knew Again What Peace Could Be.

Oh To Have You With Me, To Have You Here, Not To Be Alone, But To Be With You, My Beauty, You Of All Souls! You.

Yes. To Write A Novel Is To Risk My Sanity. The Deeper I Get Into The Suffering And Conflict Of The Characters, Into The Very Situations And Thoughts And Feelings That Make The Novel Worthwhile, The Worse I Feel, And The More Likely I Am To Be Severely Depressed When The Book Is Finished. There Is No Avoiding This: It Is The Result Of Attempting To Tell All You Know, To Reach For The Stars, To Write What Matters.

The Only Pain In Pleasure Is The Pleasure Of The Pain.

As For Oblivion, Well, We Can Wait A Little While For That.