Writers write about what obsesses them. You draw those cards. I lost my mother when I was 14. My daughter died at… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
Locked together in hatred. But I can't hate you Louis. Louis my love, I was mortal till you gave me your immortal… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
As the Roman Empire came to its close, all the old gods of the pagan world were seen as demons by the… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
Locked together in hatred. But I can't hate you Louis. Louis my love, I was mortal till you gave me your immortal… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
But don't you see, all human decisions are made like this. Do you think the mother knows what will happen to the… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
You sense my loneliness, (...) my bitterness at being shut out of life. My bitterness that I'm evil, that I don't deserve… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
I don't believe in anything, Mother," I said. "You told Armand long ago that you believe you'll find answers in the great… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
“There had never been any talent, any talent to draw or paint or to make music or to write or to make any of… — anne rice Copy Share Image
“there are only two things which I believe—the first is that no mortal can refuse the Dark Gift once he really knows what it… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
“Lie quiet and you will lapse back into peace again. Be like the god Heimdall before the battle call, so still that you can… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
All the stories I have told you are finally as useless as all ancient knowledge is to man and to us. Its images and… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
If you want to be a writer, write. Write and write and write. If you stop, start again. Save everything that you write. If… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
How can so much beauty hide such a bruised and steely heart, and why must I love him, why must I lean in my… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
“you do get wiser when you live for hundreds of years; but you also have more time to turn out as badly as your… — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
“I don't need to sleep to play. I'm crazy anyway. Being crazier still could only help.” — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
“what I felt was inexpressible gratitude for the music, that in this horror there could be something as beautiful as that.” — Anne Rice Copy Share Image
