The Vampire Lestat (The Vampire Chronicles, #2)

by Anne Rice

It was enough to make an Old World monster go back into the earth, this stunning irrelevance to the mighty scheme of things, enough to make him lie down and weep. Or enough to make him become a rock singer,

crashing through the night on my Harley-Davidson motorcycle with the Bach Goldberg Variations turned up to full volume.

morning routine

I heard the voices of Interview with the Vampire singing to me, as if they sang from the grave.

yeah

Why did I always have to go to extremes? Why did I behave habitually like a wild creature?

He stood up, which was hard for him, being crippled and blind, and he tried to throw his goblet at me and naturally he missed.

And an odd thought came to me, that in hell the light of the fires would be so bright it would be like sunlight, and this would be the only sunlight I would ever see again.

i'm so glad anne rice didn't let her upbringing affect her writing

Quickly, I took the rosary from her and kissed her and slipped the rosary into the pocket of her frock coat. “Emeralds mean eternal life, Mother,” I said.

rock on, anne