The Witching Hour (Lives of the Mayfair Witches, #1)

by Anne Rice

It was like his patient, this old place—beautiful yet forgotten by time, by urgency.

It had been the golden time of evening when the sun is gone and everything gives back the light it has absorbed all day long.

She had learnt a painful lesson, she thought—that as they die, the ones we love, we lose our

witnesses, our watchers, those who know and understand the tiny little meaningless patterns, those words drawn in water with a stick. And there is nothing left but the endless flow.

That was the test of love, he thought dreamily, when you can’t bear to be this happy without the other person with you.

give me a man or woman who has read a thousand books and you give me an interesting companion. Give me a man or woman who has read perhaps three and you give me a dangerous enemy indeed.

“I am patient, Petyr von Abel. I see very far. I shall drink the wine and eat the meat and know the warmth of the woman when you are no longer even bones.”