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But the face on the pillow, rosy in the firelight, is certainly that of Clarice Starling, and she sleeps deeply, sweetly, in the silence of the lambs.

Thomas Harris

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Thomas Harris
Age: 84
Born: 1940
Born: April 11
Author
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Jackson
Tennessee
William Thomas Harris III
Sleep
Sweetly
Face
Rosy
Faces
Sleeps
Lambs
Pillow
Deeply
Starling
Certainly
Firelight
Silence
Starlings

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God's creatures who cried themselves to sleep stirred to cry again.
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I think it's easy to mistake understanding for empathy - we want empathy so badly. Maybe learning to make that distinction is part of growing up. It's hard and ugly to know somebody can understand you without even liking you.
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It occured to Starling how much Roden would benefit from an elbow smash in the hinge of his jaw.
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Evil's just destructive? Then storms are evil, if it's that simple. And we have fire, and there there's hail. Underwriters lump it all under 'Acts of God.
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The very air had screams smeared on it. He flinched from the noise in this silent room.
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Fear comes with imagination, it’s a penalty, it’s the price of imagination.
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Funerals often make us want sex-it's one in the eye for death.
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Intense fear comes in waves the body can't stand it for long at a time.
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… 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.
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I found, and find, the scrutiny of Dr. Lecter uncomfortable, intrusive, like the humming of your thoughts when they x-ray your head.
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One can only see what one observes, and one observes only things which are already in the mind.
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Hannibal Lecter: We live in a primitive time - don't we, Will? - neither savage nor wise. Half measures are the curse of it. Any rational society would either kill me or give me my books.
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A census taker tried to quantify me once. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a big Amarone. Go back to school, little Starling.
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I would not have had that happen to you. Discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me.
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You will not persuade me with appeals to my intellectual vanity.
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When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin', but not to help.
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What does he do, Clarice? What is the first and principal thing he does, what need does he serve by killing? He covets. How do we begin to covet? We begin by coveting what we see every day.
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Shiloh isn’t haunted – men are haunted. Shiloh doesn’t care.
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There is a common emotion we all recognize and have not yet named -- the happy anticipation of being able to feel contempt.
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He sees very clearly - he damn sure sees through me. It's hard to accept that someone can understand you without wishing you well. At Starling's age it hadn't happened to her much.
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