Empire of the Vampire

A life without books is a life not lived.

There’s no misery so deep as one you face by yourself. No nights darker than ones you spend alone. But you can learn to live with any weight. Your scars grow thick enough, they become armour.

You’re past is stone, but your future clay. And you decide the shape of the life you’ll make.

When there’s little you can do, do what little you can.

It's in silence we know ourselves, vampire. It's in stillness we hear the questions that truly matter, scratching like baby birds on the eggshells of our eyes. Who am I? What do I want? What have I become? Truth is, the questions you hear in the quiet are always the most terrifying, because most people never take the time to listen to the answers. They dance. And they sing. And they fight. And they fuck. And they drown, filling their gullets with piss and their lungs with smoke and their heads with shit so they never have to learn the truth of who the fuck they are. Put a man in a room for a hundred years with a thousand books, and he’ll know a million truths. Put him in a room for a year with silence, and he’ll know himself.

Ask me not if God exists, but why he's such a prick.

Put a man in a room for a hundred years with a thousand books, and he’ll know a million truths. Put him in a room for a year with silence, and he’ll know himself.

Aim your heart at the fucking world.

If we spend all our lives in darkness, is it any wonder when darkness starts to live in us?

De León. Ye live." '"Sadly." '"How?" he hissed. '"God didn't want me. And the devil was afraid to open the door.

Astrid was just as fierce a scholar as I was a swordsman. A girl who wielded books like blades.

You're sailing awfully close to the shores of a little island most call None of Your Fucking Business.

No sin so dangerous as the sin that is chosen. No sin so glorious as the sin that is shared.

My friends are the hill I die on.

Too much hate will burn a man to cinders, Chevalier. Oui. But at least he'll die warm

What a world this would be, were it not held wholly and solely in the grip of stubborn old men.

It is my empress's will to know the whole of your tale.' Gabriel reached into his battered britches, fished about under the monster's stare. Finally, he retrieved a tarnished royale from his pocket. 'Here.' 'What is that for?' Jean-François demanded. 'I want you to take this coin to market, and buy me a fuck to give.

My mama knew herself, and there’s a fearsome power in that. Knowing exactly who you are and exactly what you’re capable of. Most folks would call it arrogance, I suppose. But most folks are fucking fools.

The book was near falling to pieces, but the lettering was still visible, faint and faded, oui, but still there. This, too, was a strange immortality. Poems, stories, ideas, frozen forever in time. The simple wonder of books.

See, I never understood that. Why pride is looked on as an evil. You work hard at something you're not born good at? Damn right you should be fucking proud.

What kind of hero are you?' Gabriel laughed, shaking his head. 'Who the fuck told you I was a hero?

But music, de León…” The vampire leaned forward, animated for perhaps the first time since their conversation began. “Music is a truth beyond telling. A bridge between strangest souls. Two men who speak not a word of each other’s tongues may yet feel their hearts soar likewise at the same refrain. Gift a man the most important of lessons, he may forget it amorrow. Gift him a beautiful song, and he shall hum it ’til the day the crows make a castle of his bones.

I will not give my heart to a coward. I will give it to a lion.

It matters not what you hold faith in. But you must hold faith in something.

I've stood in the houses of the holy, priest. I've read his scripture cover to cover, I've sung praises to his name, and I tell you now and tell you true: One hand holding a sword is worth ten thousand clasped in prayer.

But you're not a weak and foolish girl. No. I'm a fucking queen.

A smile curled Jean-François’s lips. “I had heard you were a man of ill temper.” “Interesting. I hadn’t heard of you at all.

I'm something of a bastard on the best of days. And that day was hardly my best.' Jean-François's gaze roamed Gabriel, toe to crown. 'Nor this one, I fear?' Gabriel tapped an empty leather pouch at his belt. 'Behold the purse in which I keep my fucks for what you think of me.

In death and truth I see, through blood and fire, now dance with me.