1,174 Quotes by Anne Rice

His face flushed for an instant. It lost the preternatural whiteness and he seemed a young man of twenty-four-with sharply defined and beautiful features and gaunt well-modeled cheeks.

He might have been made by God to he painted by Andrea del Santo, so delicately perfect did be seen.

Her lean face, with its well-shaped pale lips, broke into the freshest and most robust smile, as if neglect and pain had never gnawed at her.

Far away in another realm where pianos ought to be played and little boys should dance, they stood, the two like painted cutout figures against the swimming light of the room, merely gazing at me, he the little desert rogue with his fancy black cigarette, puffing away and smacking his lips and raising his eyebrows, and she merely floating it seemed, resolute and thoughtful as before, unshocked, untouched perhaps.

All the awakened flesh sang with thirst or cursed me with it. It was as if a thousand crushed and muted cells were now chanting for blood.

It was pain again, it was beginning to roar, as if I were threaded with fire, and the witch with the needle pulled on the thread hard, to make me quiver.

What a sight I was in these big clothes. I must have looked like a mad poetical schoolboy who had raided thrift stores for the finest threads and was off now in fancy new shoes to search out the rock bands.

There was no time for the old game, the game of drawing out those who wanted to die, those who truly craved my embrace, those in love already with the far country of death of which they knew nothing.

The piano sang on in crashing cascades, the rapid notes melting as fast as they were born, so like the last thin snowflakes of the winter, vanishing before they strike the pavements.