My Body Is No Schoolboy.

The Library Furnished Our Dreams, Helped Us Shape Our Ambitions, Made Up People Of Books And Ideas And Grand Designs.

A Summer Rain Had Left The Night Clean And Sparkling With Drops Of Water. I Leaned Against The End Pillar Of The Gallery, My Head Touching The Soft Tendrils Of A Jasmine Which Grew There In A Constant Battle With A Wisteria, And I Thought Of What Lay Before Me Throughout The World And Throughout Time, And Resolved To Go About It Delicately And Reverently, Learning That From Each Thing Which Would Take Me Best To Another.

You Have Made Me Ashamed Of The Wasted Years. You Have Made Me Acknowledge That No Darkness Has Ever Been Deep Enough To Extinguish My Personal Knowledge Of Love. And All Around Me In This World I See Evidence Of Love. I See Love. I See It In The Human Struggle. I See Its Undeniable Penetration In All That Humans Have Accomplished In Their Poetry, Their Painting, Their Music, Their Love Of One Another And Refusal To Accept Suffering As Their Lot.

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.

All The Mortal World Is A Lethal Enemy During Those Hours Between Dawn And Dusk.