Perhaps This Is The Only Real Evil

When We Talk About Our Lives, Long Or Short, Brief And Tragic Or Enduring Beyond Comprehension, We Impose A Continuity On Them, And That Continuity Is A Lie.

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.

Should We Put Out The Light? And Then Put Out The Light. But Once Put Out Thy Light, I Cannot Give It Vital Breath Again. It Needs Must Wither.

I Know Christianity; And I Know I Have To Move Away From It And Approach Jesus Christ On My Own. I Have To Talk To Him Directly And Seek His Guidance And Protection As I Seek To Make My Commitment To Him Central To My Life.

I Kept Glancing At Him And Away From Him, As If His Green Eyes Were Hurting Me. In Modern Parlance He Was A Laser Beam. Deadly And Delicate He Seemed. His Victims Had Always Loved Him. And I Had Always Loved Him, Hadn't I, No Matter What Happened, And How Strong Could Love Grow If You Had Eternity To Nourish It, And It Took Only These Few Moments In Time To Renew Its Momentum, Its Heat? -lestat