It's Not So," I Said. "and How

There Is A Horrifying Loneliness At Work In This Time. No, Listen To Me. We Lived Six And Seven To A Room In Those Days, When I Was Still Among The Living. The City Streets Were Seas Of Humanity; And Now In These High Buildings Dim-witted Souls Hover In Luxurious Privacy, Gazing Through The Television Window At A Faraway World Of Kissing And Touching. It Is Bound To Produce Some Great Fund Of Common Knowledge, Some New Level Of Human Awareness, A Curious Skepticism, To Be So Alone.

What Is Written Beneath This Heavy Handsome Book Cover Will Count, So Sayeth This Cover.

I Kept Glancing At Him And Away From Him, As If His Green Eyes Were Hurting Me. In Modern Parlance He Was A Laser Beam. Deadly And Delicate He Seemed. His Victims Had Always Loved Him. And I Had Always Loved Him, Hadn't I, No Matter What Happened, And How Strong Could Love Grow If You Had Eternity To Nourish It, And It Took Only These Few Moments In Time To Renew Its Momentum, Its Heat? -lestat

Wasn't It His Right To Listen To Opera, Read Poetry And Adventure Novels, Go To Europe Every Couple Of Months For Some Reason Or Another, And Drive His Porsche Over The Speed Limit Until He Found Out Who He Was?

It Was As If The Empty Nights Were Made For Thinking Of Him. And Sometimes I Found Myself So Vividly Aware Of Him It Was As If He Had Only Just Left The Room And The Ring Of His Voice Were Still There. And Somehow, There Was A Disturbing Comfort In That, And, Despite Myself, I’d Envision His Face.