Louis: Then out of curiosity, boredom, who knows what, I left the old world and came back to my America. And there, a mechanical wonder allowed me to see the sun rise for the first time in two hundred years. And what sunrises, seen as the human eye could never see them: silver at first, then, as the years progressed, in tones of purple, red, and my long lost blue.
Lestat: Come to New Orleans, then. The Paris Opera's in town. We can try some French cuisine.
Louis: Forgive me if I have a lingering respect for mortal life.
Daniel Molloy: What about crucifixes?
Daniel Molloy: Yes, can you look at them?
Louis: Actually I am quite fond of looking at crucifixes.
Daniel Molloy: What about the old stake through the heart?
Daniel Molloy: Coffins? What about coffins?
Louis: Coffins. Coffins, I'm afraid, are a necessity.
Lestat: It's your coffin, my love. Enjoy it. Most of us never get to know what it feels like.
Louis: Why do you do this?
Lestat: I like to do it. I enjoy it. Take your aesthete's taste to purer things, kill them swiftly, if you will, but do it. For do not doubt: you are a killer, Louis.
Louis: Blood, I was to find, was a necessity as well. I woke the next evening with a hunger I had never felt.
Lestat: Listen, Louis. There's life in these old hands still. Not quite Furioso. Moderato? Cantabile, perhaps.
Claudia: How can it be?
Lestat: Ask the alligator. His blood helped. Then on a diet of the blood of snakes, toads, and all the putrid life of the Mississippi, slowly, Lestat became something like himself again. Claudia... You've been a very, very, naughty little girl.
Louis: That morning I was not yet a vampire, and I saw my last sunrise. I remember it completely, and yet I can't recall any sunrise before it. I watched the whole magnificence of the dawn for the last time as if it were the first. And then I said farewell to sunlight, and set out to become what I became.
Louis: Thirty years had passed, but her body remained that of an eternal child. Her eyes alone told the story of her age, staring out from under her doll-like curls, with a questioning that will one day need an answer.
Lestat: Lord, what I wouldn't give for a drop of good old-fashioned Creole blood.
Louis: Yankees are not to your taste?
Lestat: Their democratic flavor doesn't suit my palate, Louis.
Lestat: Claudia... Claudia. Claudia! What have you done?
Claudia: What you told me to do.
Louis: Leave a corpse here to rot?
Claudia: I wanted her. I wanted to be her.
Louis: Lestat killed two, sometimes three a night. A fresh young girl, that was his favorite for the first of the evening. For seconds, he preferred a gilded beautiful youth. But the snob in him loved to hunt in society, and the blood of the aristocrat thrilled him best of all.