as they die, the ones we love, we lose our witnesses, our watchers, those who know and understand the tiny little meaningless patterns, those words drawn in water with a stick. And there is nothing left but the endless flow.
Interpretation
This quote reflects the pain of losing loved ones and the unique understanding they have of our lives.
In this poignant quote, Anne Rice articulates the deep sorrow that accompanies the loss of loved ones. They are our witnesses and the ones who understand the intricacies of our lives, represented as 'tiny little meaningless patterns'. The metaphor of 'words drawn in water with a stick' symbolizes the ephemeral nature of life and relationships, suggesting that as they pass away, so too does the acknowledgment of our experiences, leaving us with an overwhelming sense of continuity in the face of loss.
In practice
During a eulogy, one might use the quote to emphasize the impact of the deceased on their lives.
From my stone pillow I have dreamed dreams of the mortal world above. I have heard its voices, its new music, as lullabies as I lie in my grave. I have envisioned its fantastical discoveries. I have known its courage in the timeless sanctum of my thoughts. And though it shuts me out with its dazzling forms, I long for one with the strength to roam it fearlessly, to ride the Devil's Road through its heart.
We all suffer under a curse, the curse that we know more than we can endure, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing we can do about the force and the lure of this knowledge.
And so this young one, this young one whom I had so loved, I had to forsake, no matter how broken my heart, no matter how lonely my soul, no matter how bruised my intellect and spirit.
Dear God, help me. Do not forget me on this tiny cinder lost in a galaxy that is lost–a heart no bigger than a speck of dust beating, beating against death, against meaninglessness, against guilt, against sorrow.
The vampires have always been metaphors for me. They've always been vehicles through which I can express things I have felt very, very deeply.
In the very depths of Hell, do not demons love one another?
If a thing loves, it is infinite.
Then I speak to her in a language she has never heard, I speak to her in Spanish, in the tongue of the long, crepuscular verses of Díaz Casanueva; in that language in which Joaquín Edwards preaches nationalism. My discourse is profound; I speak with eloquence and seduction; my words, more than from me, issue from the warm nights, from the many solitary nights on the Red Sea, and when the tiny dancer puts her arm around my neck, I understand that she understands. Magnificent language!
Love is our steady guide on this road full of hardships.
Love is a continual interrogation. I don’t know of a better definition of love.
I am bewildered by the death of love. And my responsibility for it.
I think we need more love in the world. We need more kindness, more compassion, more joy, more laughter. I definitely want to contribute to that.
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