“I opened myself to you only to be skinned alive. The more vulnerable I became, the faster and more deft your knife. Knowing what was happening, still I stayed and let you carve more. That's how much I loved you. That's how much.”

“Yesterday a woman asked me, “Should I love my child more or less?” What I said was, “The love for your child is there. All you’ve got to do is let it come out. It’s not a question of more or less. It’s there. It’s prevalent. However much it is, you can’t control. The only thing you can control is how much of it you let it out. All you are is a vehicle. That’s true because that’s what we are. We are vehicles through which we can experience.”

“Do you know what I love? Life. And romantic love is a distraction that makes staying alive more difficult. " [Sabine]”

“Only God knows how much I love you.”

“I love you much less than my God, but much more than myself.”

“What I used to say to people, when I was much more engagé myself, is that you can't be apolitical. It will come and get you. It's not that you shouldn't be neutral. It's that you won't be able to stay neutral.”

“I love you still, that's the torment of it. Lestat I never loved. But you! The measure of my hatred is that love. They are the same! Do you know now how much I hate you!”

“I know you love me. The question is, how much?”

“What matters is that someone—that you—know me that well. When a person can see into your soul, it's hard. It forces you to be open. Vulnerable. It's much easier being with someone who's just more of a casual friend.”

““She cost you more”
“I know,” said the trick. “How much?”
“You tell me,” she said, thinking he might be a cop setting her up. That kind of thing still happened whenever the religious authorities ran out of infidels to persecute.”