... What I Fear In Writing Is

[...] So Important To Believe In A Concept Of Goodness, Even If We Make It Up Ourselves. We Don't Really Make It Up. It's There, Isn't It?" "oh, Yes, It's There," She Said. "it's There Because We Put It There.

And Then There Came The Pounding Of Another Drum, As If Another Giant Were Coming Yards Behind Him, And Each Giant, Intent On His Own Drum, Gave No Notice To The Rhythm Of The Other. The Sound Grew Louder And Louder Until It Seemed To Fill Not Just My Hearing But All My Senses, To Be Throbbing In My Lips And Fingers, In The Flesh Of My Temples, In My Veins.

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!

I’d Thought I Knew What Beauty Was In Women; But She’d Surpassed All The Language I Had For It.

But All Morality Is Of Necessity Shaped By Context. I'm Not Talking Relativism, No. To Ignore The Context Of A Decision Is In Fact Immoral.