I drank, sucking the blood out of the holes, experiencing for the first time since infancy the special pleasure of sucking nourishment, the body focused with the mind upon one vital source.

To be human, that's what most of us long for. It is the human which has become myth to us.

The human heart is my school.

Yet their whispers slithered around me. And those scents, ah, not a one was like another. And as clearly as if spoken aloud it came, the summons from mortals here and there, sensing what I was, and the lust.

Nuestro mayor error en todo el mundo es nuestra insistencia en considerar cada nuevo acontecimiento como una culminación o un clímax.

What mysteries we are, human, vampire, monster, mortal, that we can love and hate simultaneously, and that emotions of all sorts might not parade for what they are not.