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.
Lestat: There's nothing in the world now that doesn't hold some sort of.
Lestat: Yes. I'm bored of this prattle.
Louis: But if we can live without taking human life? It's possible.
Lestat: Anything's possible. Just try it for a week. Come to New Orleans. Let me show you some real sport.
Armand: You are beautiful, my friend. Lestat must have wept when he made you.
Louis: Lestat? You knew Lestat?
Armand: Knew him well enough not to mourn his passing.
Lestat: Perfect! Just perfect! Just burn the place! Burn everything we own! Have us sleeping in the field like cattle.
Louis: You thought you could have it all.
Lestat: Oh, shut up, Louis! Mon Dieu! Come here.
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