I Have No Interest In Understanding Sheep,

Spaces Devoted To Hannibal Lecter’s Earliest Years Differ From The Other Archives In Being Incomplete. Some Are Static Scenes, Fragmentary, Like Painted Attic Shards Held Together By Blank Plaster. Other Rooms Hold Sound And Motion, Great Snakes Wrestling And Heaving In The Dark And Lit In Flashes. Pleas And Screaming Fill Some Places On The Grounds Where Hannibal Himself Cannot Go. But The Corridors Do Not Echo Screaming, And There Is Music If You Like.

Nothing Made Me Happen. I Happened.

I Ate His Liver With Some Fava Beans And A Nice Chianti

Nothing Makes Us More Vulnerable Than Loneliness Except Greed.

Good-bye Clarice. Will You Let Me Know If Ever The Lambs Stop Screaming?" "yes." Pembry Was Taking Her Arm. It Was Go Or Fight Him. "yes," She Said. "i'll Tell You." "do You Promise?""yes.