Frost When was the last time you stopped to appreciate a good sunset- oh yeah that's right. You were born a vampire.
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I'm a devotee of Dracula, which was a pathfinder in horror and vampire fiction.
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Interview With the Vampire.
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The reason good women like me and flock to my pictures is that there is a little bit of vampire instinct in every woman.
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That's part of the great beauty of New Orleans. That's where Ann Rice sets the scene for her vampire books.
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I've been a prisoner and lived in prison for a while; I've been a missionary in China; I've been a vampire and a priest in Poland in World War II. I guess without bragging or being too prideful about it I'm excited when I look back at these things that I've done. I've had lots of wonderful opportunities.
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I'm not playing a vampire!
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The only thing better than imagining Dimitri carrying me in his arms was imagining him shirtless while carrying me in his arms.
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There's nothing worse than waiting and not knowing what'll happen to you. Your own imagination can be crueler than any captor.
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Sometimes you wake up from a dream. Sometimes you wake up in a dream. And sometimes, every once in a while, you wake up in someone else's dream.
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You've won the evolutionary lottery: You're a vampire. Let's go to Disneyland!
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Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.
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By the way, my name's Rose Hathaway. I'm seventeen years old, training to protect and kill vampires, in love with a completely unsuitable guy, and have a best friend whose weird magic could drive her crazy. Hey, no one said high school was easy.
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Kitty need's a tounge bath
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Brian came in heavy at that moment on his guitar, the rapid, high-pitched squeal ranging back and forth as his fingers flew along the frets. As the intro's tempo grew more rapid, Bekka heard Derek's subtle bass line as it worked its way in. After another few seconds Will came in, slow at first, but racing along to match the others' pace. When their combined efforts seemed unable to get any heavier, David jumped into the mix. As the sound got nice and heavy, Bekka began to rock back-and-forth onstage. In front of her, hundreds of metal-lovers began to jump and gyrate to their music. She matched their movements for a moment, enjoying the connection that was being made, before stepping over to the keyboard that had been set up behind her. Sliding her microphone into an attached cradle, she assumed her position and got ready. Right on cue, all the others stopped playing, throwing the auditorium into an abrupt silence. Before the crowd could react, however, Bekka's fingers began to work the keys, issuing a rhythm that was much softer and slower than what had been built up. The audience's violent thrash-dance calmed at that moment and they began to sway in response. Bekka smiled to herself. This is what she lived for.
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Meeting a vampire is kind of like a celebrity sighting, but where the celebrity possibly wants to kill you.
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~I gripped the knife even tighter. Far off in the distance, I could still hear them speaking, but only one thing was clear in my mind: Trevor, my father, was going to die. From that moment on, I was Chloe Kallistrate, a vampire hunter.~
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Being postmodern, however, is about being complicit rather than virtuous, it is about approaching categories like Good and Evil with a certain ironic skepticism.
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Oh Lestat, you deserved everything that's ever happened to you. You better not die. You might actually go to hell.
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The rule is that if they have a weapon and want to take you someplace else, it is so they can kill you slower--Peter
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He's waiting for yu, young queen.'Shocked, I stared at Seoras. 'Heath?'The Warrior's look was wise and understanding - his voice gentle. 'Aye, yur Heath probably does await you somewhere in the future, but it is of your Guardian I speak.
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But first, on earth as Vampire sent, Thy corpse shall from its tomb be rent: Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race; There from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life; Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corpse. Thy victims are they yet expire Shall know the demon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers withered on the stem.
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Do you remember the sight we saw, my soul, that soft summer morninground a turning in the path, the disgusting carcass on a bed scattered with stones, its legs in the air like a woman in needburning its wedding poisonslike a fountain with its rhythmic sobs,I could hear it clearly flowing with a long murmuring sound, but I touch my body in vain to find the wound.I am the vampire of my own heart, one of the great outcasts condemned to eternal laughterwho can no longer smile. Am I dead?I must be dead.
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I'm going to enjoy this. What? I asked. Hell?
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He thought about that visionary lady. To die, he thought, never knowing the fierce joy and attendant comfort of a loved one's embrace. To sink into that hideous coma, to sink then into death and, perhaps, return to sterile, awful wanderings. All without knowing what it was to love and be loved. That was a tragedy more terrible than becoming a vampire.
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