The Only Pain In Pleasure Is The

I Know Nothing, Because I Know Too Much, And Understand Not Nearly Enough And Never Will.

The Truth Is, Laughter Always Sounds More Perfect Than Weeping. Laughter Flows In A Violent Riff And Is Effortlessly Melodic. Weeping Is Often Fought, Choked, Half Strangled, Or Surrendered To With Humiliation.

Old Truths And Ancient Magic, Revolution And Invention, All Conspire To Distract Us From The Passion That In One Way Or Another Defeats Us All.

I Love You Still, That's The Torment Of It. Lestat I Never Loved. But You! The Measure Of My Hatred Is That Love. They Are The Same! Do You Know Now How Much I Hate You!

Oh, But When Love Is Reached Through Suffering, It Has A Power It Can Never Gain Through Innocence.