I'll confess it is pleasant to look at you asleep. You're quite beautiful, Clarice.

In her way, she was a hard one. Faith in any sort of natural justice was nothing but a night light; she knew of that. Whatever she did, she would end the same way with everyone does: flat on her back with a tube in her nose, wondering, "Is this all?

Typhoid and swans - it all comes from the same place.

Did you ever think, Clarice, why the Philistines don't understand you? It's because you are the answer to Samson's riddle. You are the honey in the lion.

I am the dragon, and you call me insane.

… It is not healing to see your childhood home, but it helps you measure whether you are broken, and how and why, assuming you want to know.

And be grateful. Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.