You Would Think Such A Day Would

In The Vaults Of Our Hearts And Brains, Danger Waits. All The Chambers Are Not Lovely, Light And High. There Are Holes In The Floor Of The Mind, Like Those In A Medieval Dungeon Floor - The Stinking Oubliettes, Named For Forgetting, Bottle-shaped Cells In Solid Rock With The Trapdoor In The Top. Nothing Escapes From Them Quietly To Ease Us. A Quake, Some Betrayal By Our Safeguards, And Sparks Of Memory Fire The Noxious Gases - Things Trapped For Years Fly Free, Ready To Explode In Pain And Drive Us To Dangerous Behavior.

The Tragedy Is Not To Die, But To Be Wasted.

I Have No Interest In Understanding Sheep, Only Eating Them.

It's Fear, Jack. The Man Deals With A Huge Amount Of Fear.' Because He Got Hurt?' No, Not Entirely. Fear Comes With Imagination, It's A Penalty, It's The Price Of Imagination.

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.