Quote

Something in me was responding now as the audience responded, not in fear, but in some human way, to the magic of that fragile painted set, the mystery of the lighted world there.

Anne Rice

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Anne Rice
Age: 83
Born: 1941
Born: October 4
Author
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
New Orleans
Louisiana
Anne O'Brien
A. N. Roquelaure
Anne Rampling
Howard Allen O'Brien
Howard Allen Frances O'Brien
World
Mystery
Magic
Audience
Fear
Lighted
Human
Responded
Humans
Responding
Something
Painted
Way
Fragile

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Evil is just a point of view
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Aren't there gradations of evil? Is evil a great perilous gulf into which one falls with the first sin, plummeting to the depth?
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Pride is the parent of destruction pride eats the mind and the heart and the soul alive.
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A singer can shatter glass with the proper high note, he said, but the simplest way to break glass is simply to drop it on the floor.
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The old gods will bring about vengeance not so much because they exist but because I once honored them.
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It struck me, sharp and hard, that I had been given so many chances to save my soul that my entire life had been constructed around these chances! That was my nature - going from temptation to temptation, not to sin, but to be redeemed.
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I do want to go another way - to write something completely different.
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Making a film, I've learned, can be an exhausting process, due to the need for backing, distribution, etc.
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I felt ravaged, and with both hands in a fantasy I reached out for her figure as we ran together through the meadow which belonged only to us and to which these others could never be admitted.Oh, inocent love, she said even as she drank from me, oh, innocent innocent love.
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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.
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God, what is it like to be You and hear all those people all the time everywhere, begging, imploring, calling out for anything and anyone?
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Every moment must be first known and then savored.
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I hear the birds singing. Listen. I hear them in their cage. The others-all our kind who know of her-they think of her as heartless, but she wasn't heartless. She was only aware of things which I didn't learn till so many decades had passed. She knew secrets that only suffering can teach.
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It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater lustre to our colours, a richer resonance to our words.
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Heaven would be Hell in no time if every cruel, selfish, vicious soul went to Heaven.
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I was a newborn vampire, weeping at the beauty of the night.
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I love New Orleans physically. I love the trees and the balmy air and the beautiful days. I have a beautiful house here.
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The atheism and nihilism of my earlier years now seems shallow, and even a bit cocky.
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I loved words. I love to sing them and speak them and even now, I must admit, I have fallen into the joy of writing them.
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Roman influence seeds itself, sprouting mighty oaks right through the modern forest of computers, digital disks, microviruses and space satellites.
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