Barney did not reply. He looked at Krendler as though the left and right hemispheres of Krendler’s brain were two dogs stuck together.
Thomas HarrisYou 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.
Thomas HarrisTags: writing on-writing
To write a novel, you begin with what you can see and then you add what came before and what came after.
...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.
Нет, доктор Лектер не строил гипотез. Он не верит ни в силлогистику, ни в синтез, ни в абсолют.
– Во что же он верит?
– В хаос. Но в хаос даже не надо верить. Он самоочевиден.
Gratitude’s got a short half-life, Clarice.
Thomas HarrisGood-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.
Thomas HarrisHe held it at arm's length, through the bars, his forefinger along the spine. She reached across the barrier and took it. For an instant the tip of her forefinger touched Dr. Lecter's. The touch crackled in his eyes. "Thank you, Clarice." "Thank you, Dr. Lecter." And that is how he remained in Starling's mind. Caught in the instant when he did not mock. Standing in his white cell, arched like a dancer, his hands clasped in front of him and his head slightly to the side.
Thomas HarrisDr. Lecter, erect as a dancer and carrying Starling in his arms, came out from behind the gate, walked barefoot out of the barn, through the pigs. Dr. Lecter walked through the sea of tossing backs and bloodspray in the barn.
Thomas HarrisThe exposition of Atrocious Torture Instruments could not fail to appeal to a connoisseur of the worst in mankind. But the essence of the worst, the true asafoetida of the human spirit, is not found in the Iron Maiden or the whetted edge; Elemental Ugliness is found in the faces of the crowd.
Thomas HarrisHe looked up and saw her and his breath stopped in his throat. His hands stopped too, still spread above the keyboard. Harpsichord notes do not carry, and in the sudden quiet of the drawing room they both heard him take his next breath.
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