And through the gloom I saw that mortal boy watching me, and I smelled the hot aroma of his flesh.
For what can the damned really have to say to the damned?
All you can do, he thought, is fight to stay alive, to stay conscious, to remain a witness and hope somehow there is a meaning to it.
Labor is an antidote for angst and general misery, and the fear that the Devil is going to grab you by the throat at any moment and bring you down into the fiery pit.
You're a perfect devil, Lestat!" "That's what you are! You are the devil himself!
And so this young one, this young one whom I had so loved, I had to forsake, no matter how broken my heart, no matter how lonely my soul, no matter how bruised my intellect and spirit.