
| “I’d like to meet the devil some night. I’d chase him from here to the wilds of the Pacific. I am the devil.” |
| “Evil is a point of view. God kills, indiscriminately, and so shall we. He takes the richest and the poorest, as so shall we, for no creatures under God are as we are, none so like Him as ourselves. Dark angels not confined to the stinking limits of hell but wandering his earth and all it’s kingdoms.” |
| “It is a new age. It requires a new evil. And I am that new evil. I am the vampire for these times.” |
| “I want to affect things! To make something happen!” |
| “In spite of all the refinements of civilization that conspired to make art–the dizzying perfection of the string quartet or the sprawling grandeur of Fragonard’s canvases–beauty was savage. It was as dangerous and lawless as the earth had been eons before man had one single coherent thought in his head or wrote codes of conduct on tablets of clay. Beauty was a Savage Garden.” |
| “We are the things that others fear.” |
| “Don’t be a fool for the devil, darling!…Unless he treats you a damn sight better than the Almighty!” |
| “I never lie…Atleast not to those I don’t love.” |
| “I don’t believe in anything. And that makes me stronger than you think.” |
| “Try to see the evil that I am. I stalk the world in mortal dress–the worst of fiends, the monster who looks exactly like everyone else.” |
| “Speak to me of the Dark Gifts- I use them. I’m Gentleman Death in silk and lace, come to put out the candles. The canker in the heart of the rose.” |
| “I realized aloud in the midst of saying it that even when we die we probably don’t find out the question as to why we were ever alive. Even the avowed atheist probably thinks that in death he’ll get some answer. I mean God will be there, or there won’t be anything at all.” |
| “I don’t like myself, you know. I love myself, of course. I’m devoted to myself till my dying day. But I don’t like myself.” |
| “Despair was so familiar to me; it could be banished by the sight of a beautiful mannikin in the window. It could be dispelled by the spectacle of lights surrounding a tower. It could be lifted by the great ghostly shape of Saint Patrick’s coming into view. And then despair would come again.” |
| “Louis, Louis; still whining Louis. Have you heard enough? I’ve had to listen to that for centuries.” |

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