The Vampire Lestat (The Vampire Chronicles, #2)

by Anne Rice

had to find Louis. I had to talk to him. In fact, after reading his account of things, I ached for him, ached for his romantic illusions, and even his dishonesty. I ached even for his gentlemanly malice and his physical presence, the deceptively soft sound of his voice.

Aching for his romantic illusions straightilly…platonically….

And human as Orpheus perhaps, I stopped and glanced back.

Do you think we find our destiny somehow, no matter what happens? I mean, do you think that even as immortals we follow some path that was already marked for us when we were alive?

And I had always loved him, hadn’t I, no matter what happened, and how strong could love grow if you had eternity to nourish it, and it took only these few moments in time to renew its momentum, its heat?

Subtext LOL

“I AM TELLING YOU I AM A VAMPIRE!” I screamed suddenly. Ecstasy, delirium. “I AM EVIL! EVIL!” “Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, YES, YES, YES.”

Lmfao