Blood Canticle [antikvár]

I want to be a saint. I want to save souls by the millions. I want to do good far and wide. I want to fight evil! I want my life-sized statue in every church. I'm talking six feet tall, blond hair, blue eyes -. Wait a second. Do you know who I am? I'm thinking maybe you're a new reader and you've never heard of me. Well, if that's the case, allow me to introduce myself, which I absolutely crave doing at the beginning of every one of my books. I'm the Vampire Lestat, the most potent and lovable vampire ever created, a supernatural knockout, two hundred years old but fixed forever in the form of a twenty-year-old male with features and figure you'd die for - and just might. I'm endlessly resourceful, and xindeniably charming. Death, disease, time, gravity, they mean nothing to me. Only two things are my enemy: daylight, because it renders me completely lifeless and vulnerable to the burning rays of the sun, and conscience. In other words, I'm a condemned inhabitant of eternal night and an eternally tormented blood seeker. Doesn't that make me sound irresistible? And before I continue with my fantasy let me assure you: I know damned well how to be a full-fledged, post-Renaissance, post-nineteenth century, post-modem, post-popular writer. I don't deconstruct nothin'. That is,