I am such a bad girl," she thought. Yet...

“Armand to Louis: “You realize this woman writes that her vampires sparkle in the sun!” Louis in reply. “Well, that’s better than burning up in the sun, isn’t it?”

You do have a story inside you; it lies articulate and waiting to be written — behind your silence and your suffering.

It was over now, and the meaningless world was tolerable and need not be explained. And never would it be, and how foolish I had ever been to think so.

Oh Lestat, you deserved everything that's ever happened to you. You better not die. You might actually go to hell.

Go where the pain is, go where the pleasure is.