There was your same boldness and decorum. And then the warmest smile from you, a smile in which I think your former physiology must have dominated because you looked far too wise for one so young and strong of build. I marveled at the perfect picture you had made of yourself. Just as Lestat resigns himself to the body of a killer he is approached by the body thief, a creature who covets Lestat's monstrous power and can give him what he wants: a mortal body. I don't know, David. But I'll meet you tomorrow night. Why haven't you come to me there? Where it was warm and lighted?" A lively fashionable modern cult of angels, devotion thriving everywhere. And people rising from operating tables to speak of life after death, a tunnel, an embracing love! Oh, you have been created perhaps in an auspicious time! I don't know what to make of it." A strange, otherworldly spirit has resurfaced, taking possession of his body and soul. All-seeing, all-knowing, its voice whispers in his ear, telling the hypnotic tale of Atlantis, the great sea power of ancient times...

La saga estuvo maravillosa, nos plantea la vida de los vampiros desde un punto de vista bohemio, donde se enfocan en los sentimientos y la búsqueda existencial de los personajes, la religión (cielo e infierno) y como estos influyen en su pensamiento. Se unen más elementos ficticios, como lo son las brujas, también hay conceptos reales relacionados con Egipto (y la parte mítica, que es de allí donde nace los vampiros).Anne Rice es sin duda una escritora maravillosa. Las crónicas del vampíricas son todas muy buenas. Vittorio del vampiro fue un libro en el cual se me hizo pesada su lectura, pero igual, los terminé y con mucho gusto. I wanted to tell you of others who have never known us as a tribe or known our history, who survived the terrible fire brought down on her children by our Mother Akasha. I wanted to tell you that there were things walking the Earth that look like us but are not of our breed any more than they are human. And I wanted suddenly to take you under my wing. Our Lady of Fatima," you said softly. "The Shroud of Turin, a cripple rising from the Miraculous Waters of Lourdes! What a consolation it must be to accept such a thing so easily." You wore another stunning suit of modern cut with a full cape of worsted wool, very tasteful, yet Old World, and with your golden skin and radiant eyes, you turned the head of every woman in the place and you turned the heads of some of the men. You were in misery, having thought of Armand, having remembered his walking into the morning sun. You mourned for Armand.You looked away, and you closed your eyes. This was a simple unadorned plea to me not to make you speak of Armand and how he had gone into the morning fire. I've only started," you said, "and will keep company alike with brilliant Children of the Millennia and street-corner fortune tellers who deal out the cards of the Tarot. I'm eager to gaze into crystal balls and darkened mirrors. I'll search now among those whom others dismiss as mad, or among us--among those like you, who have looked on something that they do not believe they should share! That's it, isn't it? But I ask you to share it. I'm finished with the ordinary human soul. I am finished with science and psychology, with microscopes and perhaps even with the telescopes aimed at the stars." It was this first issue I took up with you, my curiosity overwhelming me, for to scan the world for knowledge is often to rake in such tragedy that I abhor it. You shook your head. "And neither did Lestat, really. It was the mortal girl, Dora, snatching the Veil from him, who took it out into the world. But it was a most singular and meticulously made thing, I'll tell you that, more worthy of the word 'relic' perhaps than any other I've ever seen." Even she draws no response from him. Whatever he saw, in his journey to Heaven and Hell, he doesn't know the truth of it one way or the other--he tried to tell this to Dora! And eventually, after I'd written down the whole story for him, he passed within a few nights into this state.

Esperaba mucho de (quizá el último libro de las crónicas) Principe Lestat(2014), trae a colación a casi todos los personajes de las crónicas, introduciendo a personajes nuevos. Su lectura se me hizo algo larga, ya que se detiene mucho en las conversaciones de los personajes y sus descripciones de los lugares quedan muy a medias; fue bueno que reviviera a ese vampiro ladino y hermoso de las crónicas, pero no cumplió con mis expectativas. And like vampire fiction itself, "The Complete Vampire Chronicles" (which is no longer complete, with the publication of "Prince Lestat") is a severely mixed bag -- some of the books are absolutely brilliant, some are middling, and some will leave you goggling in horror. While it begins with three spellbinding classics of vampire passion and pain, the books slowly slip in quality as the series goes on, climaxing with the fanfiction-like grotesquerie of "Blood Canticle." Then I said sharply that I could not. But something had stirred in me. I saw and heard arguments and tirades of centuries ago, I saw the poet's lifted light shine on eras I had known intimately out of love. Other eras I had never known, wandering, ignorant, a wraith. Frightening, sensual . . . Anne Rice will live on through the ages of literature. . . . To read her is to become giddy as if spinning through the mind of time, to become lightheaded as if our blood is slowly being drained away.”— San Francisco Chronicle

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And she did want to survive. Wrapped in saints, and dreaming suddenly of the breasts that nursed her, her young body fought, pumping and pumping against me, she so soft, and my own form hard as a statue, my milkless nipples enshrined in marble, no comfort. Let her see her mother, dead, gone and now waiting. Let me glimpse through her dying eyes the light through which she sped towards this certain salvation. But that was an exception, a surge of love in the man's soul that somehow defied death, or delayed the soul's termination--something we can't understand." The bond is only grief. He went into the sun. And grief is absolutely the easiest and safest of bonds."

This is Paris, in a time of peace. There is rain. High regal gray buildings with their double windows and iron balconies line this boulevard. Loud, tiny, dangerous automobiles race in the streets. Cafés, such as this, are overflowing with international tourists. Ancient churches are crowded here by tenements, palaces turned to museums, in whose rooms I linger for hours gazing at objects from Egypt or Sumer which are even older than me. Roman architecture is everywhere, absolute replicas of Temples of my time now serve as banks. The words of my native Latin suffuse the English language. Ovid, my beloved Ovid, the poet who predicted his poetry would outlast the Roman Empire, has been proved true. I could have wept. "On the contrary. You don't know the silence and solitude in which I wander, and pray you never know it, and here you've given me heat without death, you've given me nourishment without blood. I'm glad you've come." There is only one vampire, only one blood drinker, truly known to the entire world of the Undead. Will the dazzling hero-wanderer, the dangerous rebel-outlaw Lestat heed the call to unite the Children of Darkness as they face this new twilight? What do I look like to these people? A woman with long wavy clean brown hair that covers me much like a nun's mantle, a face so white it appears cosmetically created, and eyes, abnormally brilliant, even from behind golden glasses. I want to know now what we can learn," you said. "I want to know what we can see! So I come to you, a Child of the Millennia, a vampire who drank from the Queen Akasha herself, one who has survived two thousand years. And I ask you, Pandora, please will you write for me, write your story, write what you will."Here is the glorious and sinister life of Marius: patrician by birth, scholar by choice and one of the oldest vampires of them all. From his genesis in ancient Rome, to his present day we follow the story of this aristocratic and powerful killer. But why seek to explain here such curiosity as yours, such bravery in face of blood-drenched truth? Because you do have a story inside you; it lies articulate and waiting to be written--behind your silence and your suffering." Now, with the publication of the complete series in one convenient eBook bundle, there has never been a better time to devour the entirety of The Vampire Chronicles. Gathered here are the ten books that comprise the original saga:

You don't know what a joy it is to me," you said, "that you've come, that you've let me join you here at this table." Yes, I will tell you the story of my mortal life in ancient Rome, how I came to love Marius and how we came to be together and then to part. Apparently each century yields a new kind of vampire, or let us say that our course of growth was not set in the beginning any more than the course of human beings. Some night perhaps I will tell you everything I see--these spirits who were never clear to me when I was mortal--I'll tell you about something Armand confided to me, about the colors he saw when he took life, how the soul left body in waves of radiating color!"

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I had chosen this table in the crowded center of the room, as though I wanted to be in the middle of the whirlpool of mortal scent and activity. You seemed pleased, unafraid, utterly at home. Suddenly your eyes moved upwards. Your expression changed. It was almost as if you were deliberately trying to appear to enter a trance. Slowly you turned your head. You pointed, with your hand close to the table, then let your hand go lax. From his ancestral chateau high up in the mountains of France, Prince Lestat grapples to instil a new ideology of peace and harmony among the blood-drinking community. Prince Lestat is seduced by the power of this ancient spirit, but is he right to trust it? Why has Lestat, leader of the vampires, been chosen as its bodily host? I slowed the drinking, I let her sigh, I let her lungs fill with the cold river air, her mother drawing closer and closer so that death now was as safe for her as the womb. I took every drop from her that she could give.