I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti

Life's too slippery for books, Clarice; anger appears as lust, lupus presents as hives.

Writing novels is the hardest thing I've ever done, including digging irrigation ditches.

You must understand that when you are writing a novel you are not making anything up. It's all there and you just have to find it.

You would think such a day would tremble to begin . . .

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.

It's hard to have anything isn't it? Rare to get it, hard to keep it. This is a damn slippery planet.