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Acá terminó el cuento. Habrá sido de unas 40 páginas aprox. Cortito. Estuvo bien, mas no me deslumbró

His sister, anxious for his safety, employed people to follow him; but they were soon distanced by him who fled from a pursuer swifter than any—from thought.

whilst in his mind he retained an image that seemed alone the rightful possessor of his thoughts.

Hermoso el extracto de Thalaba de Southey

“it has only assumed its present form since the division of the Latin and Greek churches; at which time, the idea becoming prevalent, that a Latin body could not corrupt if buried in their territory, it gradually increased, and formed the subject of many wonderful stories, still extant, of the dead rising from their graves”

“a Latin body could not corrupt if buried in their territory” goes hard af

‘But I’m so glad to see you,’ he stammered through his tears. ‘I’ve dreamed of your coming…coming…’

Exquisita la venganza de Louis

“Oh, but you’d be making a terrible mistake,’ I said, looking him in the eyes. His words were only slowly sinking in. Never had I felt my all-consuming frustration to be so clear. I could not conceivably satisfy him. I could not satisfy Claudia. I’d never been able to satisfy Lestat. And my own mortal brother, Paul: How dismally, mortally I had disappointed him!”

But you feel an obligation to a world you love because that world for you is still intact. It is conceivable your own sensitivity might become the instrument of madness.

“‘Yes, that shape, I might have known what it was to walk at your side. Monsters! To give me immortality in this hopeless guise, this helpless form!’ The tears stood in her eyes. The words had died away, drawn in, as it were, on her breast.”

Todo lo de Claudia es tan terrible

I could see that mortal boy again as if he were not asleep on the bed but kneeling at Armand’s side with his arms around Armand’s neck. It was an icon for me of love. The love I felt. Not physical love, you must understand. I don’t speak of that at all, though Armand was beautiful and simple, and no intimacy with him would ever have been repellent.”

Se tiró un “no homo, es fachero”

If you knew how he drinks death you’d hate him more than you ever hated Lestat. Louis, you must never return to him. I tell you, I’m in danger!

Pobre Claudia

‘You would leave me for Armand if he beckoned to you….’
‘Never…’ I said to her.
‘You would leave me, and he wants you as you want him. He’s been waiting for you.…’
‘Never….’ […] I turned to her and told her to come. And she was at my side. I wanted to bury my face in her hair, I wanted to beg her forgiveness. Because, in truth, she was right; and yet I loved her, loved her as always. ”

the pull of my old delirium, the wakening of a need so terrible that the very promise of its fulfillment contained the unbearable possibility of disappointment.

Qué lindo que escribe esta mujer

‘It’s not logical, as you would make it sound. But it’s that dark, that empty. And it is without consolation.’

and all I saw was his radiant face, as I had never seen Lestat’s face

Terribles las cosas que tiene que leer una

‘I cannot make her happy, I do not make her happy; and her unhappiness increases every day.’ This was my chant, which I repeated like a rosary

“ ‘Stop it,’ I begged her. ‘If you knew how completely I envision everything you describe, you would not describe it.”

A sickness rose in me more wretched than anguish when I saw what my dreams were doing. I wanted him alive! In the dark nights of eastern Europe, Lestat was the only vampire I’d found.

But he was only Lestat, as I’ve described him to you: devoid of mystery, finally, his limits as familiar to me in those months in eastern Europe as his charms. I wanted to forget him, and yet it seemed I thought of him always. It was as if the empty nights were made for thinking of him.

Epílogo

“Por último, deseo que disfrutéis de lo que os brinda el día a día.” Gracias, Banana, qué dulce

Una curiosa historia a orillas de un gran río

Efectivamente fue una curiosa historia a orillas de un gran río