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Anne Rice's writing is usually associated with vampires, witches, and devils. The twenty-six books she has written over the last 30 years included two cycles chronicling the lives of her characters. Paralleling her return to the faith of her youth, Rice's new novel, Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt, marks the beginning of a profoundly new cycle in her authorship. Read more
I’m a one-breasted woman,           I’m Christ’s Amazon, I’m a one-breasted woman,           I’m ready to fight. I’m a one-breasted woman,           my ax is at my side. I’m a one-breasted woman,           I keep attacking the enemy. Read more
Femininity is a gift Straight from the Lord Once turned wrong Now restored The cross gives my hair A new way to shine The cross gives my back A new and flexible spine The cross gives my body A new way to be preserved The cross gives femininity As a way to praise the Lord Read more
Life is like the wind It comes and it goes You You have a choice to make:How will you live When life Is like the wind Read more
My names, a drunkenness of vowels, l’s, ümlauts, a mélange of ancestries, diacritics, an unreasonable stretch of signature, this seven-syllable amalgam, this roughhouse of families, this farrago of Spanish, English, German, this gallimaufry of tree gardener, medieval shrew, Pelayo’s son, this rummage sale of dactyl and anapest. Read more
Is it the transparency and lift of air? Is it release as when the pebble flings out of the slingshot or the tethered dog suddenly is without lead? Read more
On the morning of your seventieth birthday you say you feel that sick tug of mortality, the reminder that your roots are spring-thin in this damp earth, the reminder that green shoots must break seed shells in the stiff push toward light, the path dank and unfamiliar. Read more
Rainbows fume from my body, but the green water to nourish them flows sporadically. These hungry beams of refracted light wait Read more
I dare my soul to mark the solemn hour for healing of the world’s disquietude, glean harvests of eternity in fading tapestries of time, engage that higher realm where love abounds. Read more
Snow falls gently like little promises accumulating over the years, piling into great mounds of failed commitment. Too large to ignore, it stands grim sentinel in the chill of resentment, but it slowly melts away under the sunshine of mercy. Read more

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