First-person Narrators Is The Way

Memory Was A Curse, Yes, He Thought, But It Was Also The Greatest Gift. Because If You Lost Memory You Lost Everything.

Sleep Is Your Friend. Dreams Are Your Unwelcome Guests.

What Does It Mean To Die When You Can Live Until The End Of The World?

Yet I Saw Crypts When I Looked At Him, And I Heard The Beat Of Kettledrums. I Saw Torchlit Fields Where I Had Never Been, Heard Vague Incantations, Felt The Heat Of Raging Fires On My Face. And They Didn't Come Out Of Him, These Visions. Rather I Drew Them Out On My Own. Yet I Never Had Nicolas, Mortal Or Immortal, Been So Alluring. Never Had Gabrielle Held Me So In Thrall. Dear God, This Is Love. This Is Desire. And All My Past Amours Have Been But The Shadow Of This." — Lestat De Lioncourt

I Allowed Myself To Forget How Totally I Had Fallen In Love With Lestat's Iridescent Eyes, That I'd Sold My Soul For A Many-colored And Luminescent Thing, Thinking That A Highly Reflective Surface Conveyed The Power To Walk On Water.