Desire Urges Me On As Fear Bridles

My Experiences Thus Far Had Me Planning To Throttle The First Tudor Historian I Met Upon My Return For Gross Dereliction Of Duty.

You Persist In This Romantic Vision Of What It Is To Be A Vampire, But Despite My Best Efforts To Curb It I Have A Taste For Blood.

The Most Beautiful Experience We Can Have Is The Mysterious. It Is The Fundamental Emotion That Stands At The Cradle Of True Art And True Science. Whoever Does Not Know It And Can No Longer Wonder, Is As Good As Dead, And His Eyes Are Dimmed (albert Einstein)

Sorry, We've Got Ghosts.

Somewhere In The Center Of My Soul, A Rusty Chain Began To Unwind. It Freed Itself, Link By Link, From Where It Had Rested, Unobserved, Waiting For Him. My Hands, Which Had Been Balled Up And Pressed Against His Chest, Unfurled With It. The Chain Continued To Drop, To An Unfathomable Depth Where There Was Nothing But Darkness And Matthew. At Last It Snapped To Its Full Length, Anchoring Me To A Vampire. Despite The Manuscript, Despite The Fact That My Hands Contained Enough Voltage To Run A Microwave, And Despite The Photograph, As Long As I Was Connected To Him, I Was Safe.