I Can't Keep Up With Stephen King's

I Was At A Loss Suddenly; But Conscious All The While Of How Armand Listened; That He Listened In The Way That We Dream Of Others Listening, His Face Seeming To Reflect On Every Thing Said. He Did Not Start Forward To Seize On My Slightest Pause, To Assert An Understanding Of Something Before The Thought Was Finished, Or To Argue With A Swift, Irresistible Impulse -- The Things Which Often Make Dialogue Impossible. And After A Long Interval He Said, 'i Want You. I Want You More Than Anything In The World.

Despair Was So Familiar To Me; It Could Be Banished By The Sight Of A Beautiful Mannikin In The Window. It Could Be Dispelled By The Spectacle Of Lights Surrounding A Tower. It Could Be Lifted By The Great Ghostly Shape Of St. Patrick's Coming Into View. And Then Despair Would Come Again.

The Vampire Is An Outsider. He's The Perfect Metaphor For Those Things. He's Someone Who Looks Human And Sounds Human, But Is Not Human, So He's Always On The Margins.

Lestat: I Despise You! I Ought To Destroy You-finish What I Started When I Made You. Turn You Into Ashes And Sift Them Through My Hands. You Know That I Could Do It! Like That! Like The Snap Of Mortal Fingers, I Could Do It. Burn You As I Burnt Your Little House. And Nothing Could Save You, Nothing At All.

Suffering Of Sentient Beings Is Like Decay; It Fertilizes The Growth Of Their Souls.