-you Are On The Verge Of Being

From My Stone Pillow I Have Dreamed Dreams Of The Mortal World Above. I Have Heard Its Voices, Its New Music, As Lullabies As I Lie In My Grave. I Have Envisioned Its Fantastical Discoveries. I Have Known Its Courage In The Timeless Sanctum Of My Thoughts. And Though It Shuts Me Out With Its Dazzling Forms, I Long For One With The Strength To Roam It Fearlessly, To Ride The Devil's Road Through Its Heart.

When I'm Writing, The Darkness Is Always There. I Go Where The Pain Is.

I Am The Vampire Lestat. I'm Immortal More Or Less. The Light Of The Sun, The Sustained Heat Of An Intense Fire-these Things Might Destroy Me. But Then Again, They Might Not.

You Can Look At The New York Times Bestseller List And You Can Be Pretty Sure That The Writers On That List Don't Know Each Other Very Well.

I Saw Finally The Futility Of All These Gestures, That Witchcraft Is But A Matter Of Focus-that One Cann Apply One's Fierce And Immeasurable Energies To An Act Of Choice.