The Tragedy Is Not To Die, But

Let Me Tell You About My Day. I Get Up At 8 O'clock In The Morning. At 8:30 Am, I Leave The House And I Arrive At My Office At 8:37. I Stay In The Office Until 2 O'clock In The Afternoon. I Get In My Porsche And I'm Home At 2:03 Because The One-way Streets Make It Faster For Me To Drive. And Between 8:36 Am And 2 Pm, I'm Doing One Of Three Things: I'm Writing. I'm Staring Out The Window. Or I'm Writhing On The Floor.

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.

Problem-solving Is Hunting; It Is Savage Pleasure And We Are Born To It.

How Seldom We Recognize The Sound When The Bolt Of Our Fate Slides Home.

When You Feel Strain, Keep Your Mouth Shut If You Can.