Anthony Hopkins Monologues

The truth is never simple and yet it is. The truth is we did kill him. By silence we consented... because we couldn't go on. But by Ares, what did we have to look forward to but to be discarded in the end like Cleitus? After all this time, to give away our wealth to Asian sycophants we despised? Mixing the races? Harmony? Oh, he talked of these things. I never believe in his dream. None of us did. That's the truth of his life. The dreamers exhaust us. They must die before they kill us with their blasted dreams.

On the tenth of June, a month short of his 33rd year, Alexander's great heart finally gave out. And, as he vowed, he joined Hephaistion. But in his short life he achieved, without doubt, the mythic glory of his ancestor; Achilles. And more.

I've lived... I've lived long life, Cadmos, but the glory and the memory of men will always belong to the ones who follow their great visions. The greatest of these is the one they now call Megas Alexandros. The greatest of them all.

Within hours we were fighting like Jackals for his corpse. The wars of the world had begun. Forty years, off and on, they endured, until we divided his empire in four parts. I think Alexander would have been disappointed in us.

It was said later that Alexander was never defeated in his lifetime, except by Hephaistion's thighs.

Alexander used to say that we are most alone when we are with the myths.

How can I tell you what it was like to be young; to dream big dreams? And to believe when Alexander looked you in the eye you could do anything. In his presence, by the light of Apollo, we were better than ourselves.

All greatness comes from loss.

Our world is gone now. Smashed by the wars. Now I am the keeper of his body, embalmed here in the Egyptian ways. I followed him as Pharaoh, and have now ruled 40 years. I am the victor. But what does it all mean when there is not one left to remember - the great cavalry charge at Gaugamela, or the mountains of the Hindu Kush when we crossed a 100,000-man army into India? He was a god, Cadmos. Or as close as anything I've ever seen.

Who Roxane really was, I doubt any of us ever saw further than the pools of those black eyes.

I've known many great men in my life, but only one colossus. And only now in old do I understand who this force of nature really was. Or do I?

We all felt there was more here than sexual bickery. Alexander wanted the truth, and Philotas' answers were lacking merit. Alexander put him, silently and quickly, to trial by his peers. And whether plotter or opportunist, Philotas was found guilty of treason. None of us defended Philotas, but then again, none of us ever liked him.

In the end, I believe, Babylon was a far easier mistress to enter than to leave.

His failure towered over other men's successes.

It was mad. Forty thousand of us against hundreds of thousands of barbarian races unknown to us, gathered under Darius himself. East and West had now come together to decide the fate of the known world. It was the day Alexander had waited for all his life.

It was the bloodiest of his battles. Pure butchery, the end of all reason... we'd never be men again.

The surveyors told us we were now on the boarders of where Europe and Asia meet. In fact, we were totally lost.

I've paid my price, in blood. And in broken dreams.

We are still faced with a long, hard voyage. I mean to make good use of every hour of sailing time, and to assist me in this, I am replacing Mr. Fryer with Mr. Christian, who will now act as executive second in command, with the rank of Acting Second Lieutenant…

The Royal Navy is not a humorous institution, sir, and insubordination is no laughing matter.

Around the Horn is the easiest way, the better way, and that is how we will go. Anything more?

He was insubordinate, cowardly and insubordinate, he frightened the men, I did not put that fear there, he did. So he will be lashed and we will go around the Horn. Are you frightened to go around the Horn, Mr. Christian? Are you a coward too, sir?

Well, I shall have to try and navigate from memory, Mr. Fryer. It will take us close to the most savage islands in these waters, the Fiji Islands, where cannibalism is perfected almost to a science, and from there, my friends, God willing, we shall proceed on to the Great Barrier Reef itself, then to New Holland, and from there across the Timor Sea to Kupang. And now it will take us at least two months, and we have provisions and water enough to last us one week. So that is the situation, gentlemen, plain and simple.

Make the best of it, Smith? Yes! But will you? That's what I'd ask myself. Will you make the best of it? You hear me? Are you prepared to make the best of it, all of you? Because all I can promise you, lads, is relentless pain and hardship. Now if you're prepared to make do, and make sacrifices, and furthermore are willing to swear by it, I promise you our chances of survival are fair. You hear me? You all say "Aye"?

So, you think I'm harsh with you, hey? I've been at sea many years Fletcher, since I was 12, and in that time I've seen many men, many good men fall for island women in these waters. I've never once seen it come out well. Of course I understand the excitement and the... but think to yourself, man. Could you bring a woman like that home to your friends and your family? No, of course you couldn't. They're not like us, Fletcher. You think I was harsh with you, but you needed someone to show you where your duty really lay, because you were at a loss, my friend. You may not thank me now but you will eventually. So, let's get the ship running again and get back to where we were before.

My dear God. I had hoped to avoid this.

Damn it all, man. I'm expected to sleep with her. She's one of King Tynah's wives. A gift from one chief to another, as it were. Now look, five minutes after I go below you must call me up on some important business, all right?

Business, damn it; any bloody business.

I hope never to see Fletcher Christian again. Unless it is to see him hanged.

Three men jumped ship last night. Churchill was one of them. You don't seem surprised?

Well, I must say I'm no longer surprised myself now that I see the example that's being set by my first officer. Just look at yourself, man, look at the way you're dressed. Come on, you're no better than one of these natives.

Mr. Christian, I think your brain has received too much sunlight and your body overindulged in sexual excess.

No, you've done no more than any wild animal would do. It always makes me laugh that whenever men lose their self-restraint they always say they're "natural".

Mr. Christian, you will report to the ship by sundown tonight.

What did you say? No? Is that what you said? Is that what you said? No? All right, you will report to the ship immediately and you will stay on the ship. There'll be no more fraternizing with the damned degenerate natives of these islands by any of my officers or any of my crew. You comprehend my meaning, sir?

God damn you, man. Don't you bloody cross me.

Well gentlemen, between ourselves and home lies 2300 sea miles, the Endeavor Straits and the Great Barrier Reef. Now the crew is deeply demoralized and I must accept, as every captain must, the inevitable and theoretical responsibility for that. The actual and immediate responsibility, however, I place on you, my fellow officers who met this crisis with lethargy, impudence and flagrant defiance, publicly uttered. And perhaps for that I am also to blame. I counted on a strength of character which you do not possess. However, the cure for our predicament is discipline and I shall apply it with an even hand of course, but most where it is most required.

I'll not have your vile ways brought aboard my ship, sir! Do you understand? Now you'll call up the swabbing party yet again! And this time you will make bloody sure that the decks are clean, or by God you will answer for it, sir! I'll not have any of your foul, filthy, gutter ways on board my ship! Do you understand? Good God, pigs in a sty have more comprehension of cleanliness than you buggers have! Now you'll get these decks clean, or by God I'll make you lick them clean with your tongue if you don't mend your ways!

You will clean up this ship and yourselves!

Mr Cole, hoist the Jack. It's not proper to land without identification.

Why love, if losing hurts so much? I have no answers anymore: only the life I have lived. Twice in that life I've been given the choice: as a boy and as a man. The boy chose safety, the man chooses suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then. That's the deal.

Will you marry this foolish, frightened old man… who needs you more than he can bear to say… who loves you, even though he hardly knows how?

I've always found this a trying time of the year. The leaves not yet out. Mud everywhere you go. Frosty mornings gone. Sunny mornings not yet come. Give me blizzards and frozen pipes, but not this, nothing time. Not this, waiting room of the world.

I love you, Joy. I love you so much. You made me so happy. I didn't know I could be so happy.

You know, I don't want to be somewhere else anymore. I'm not waiting for anything new to happen… not looking around the next corner and over the next hill. I'm here now. That's enough.

Yeah, she was in great pain! Then we cut off her head, and drove a stake through her heart, and burned it, and then she found peace.

Jack. Come here. I know how deeply you loved her. That is why you must trust me and believe.

Mr. Morris, your bullets will not harm him. He must be beheaded. I suggest you use your big Bowie knife.

Civilization, and syphilization, have advanced together.

We've all become God's madmen, all of us.

We are dealing with forces beyond all human experience, and enormous power. So guard her well. Otherwise, your precious Lucy will become a bitch of the Devil! A whore of darkness!

Hear me out, young man. Lucy is not a random victim, attacked by mere accident, you understand? No. She is a willing recruit, a breathless follower, a wanton follower. I dare say, a devoted disciple. She is the Devil's concubine!

She lives beyond the grace of God, a wanderer in the outer darkness. She is "vampyr", "nosferatu". These creatures do not die like the bee after the first sting, but instead grow strong and become immortal once infected by another nosferatu. So, my friends we fight not one beast but legions that go on age after age after age, feeding on the blood of the living.

Jack, you are a scientist; do you not think there are things in this Universe that you cannot understand and which are true?

Do not let your eyes see or your ears hear that which you cannot account for.

We have learned much. Dracula fears us. He fears time. For if he does not, why does he hurry so.

Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

You know, my grandfather was an egg farmer.

No, I used to candle eggs at his farm. Do you know what that is? You hold an egg up to the light of a candle and you look for imperfections. The first time I did it he told me to put all the eggs that were cracked or flawed into a bucket for the bakery. And he came back an hour later, and there were 300 eggs in the bakery bucket. He asked me what the hell I was doing. I found a flaw in every single one of them - you know, thin places in the shell; fine, hairline cracks. You look closely enough, you'll find that everything has a weak spot where it can break, sooner or later.

I've already found yours.

I love you. Does he?

You really need to be nice to me now, Willy.

Because… what's left of a life depends on a machine powered by a cord that leads to a plug in an electrical outlet… and I decide when it gets pulled. That's why.

I'm sorry, your honor, but what would you call it, legally, when the officer who arrested you was having sexual intercourse with your wife? You know, I think it's objectionable. It's rather disgusting is what I think, but uh... I dunno; maybe I'm wrong!"

And the look on his face, oh. He was trying to get her back to life. And I was pissing myself laughing. Because I took both the bastards out with one fucking bullet.

My dick, my private investigator. I call him Dick. Perhaps I should call him as a rebuttal witness, because since the tragedy, um, he's dug up hotel records and witnesses that confirm that my wife and Mr Nunally were having an affair. My dick is good.

My Dick is good.

Nicely done, Willy. Truly. A regular chain of evidence. Great stuff. Vivid. Heartbreaking. The victim cries out from beyond the grave. Yeah. Jurors love all that sort of crap, don't they? I bet you don't even need a confession anymore, do you, Willy? I tell you what, though, old sport. Let's make you a new one just in case. The real deal, all the juicy details. You can get your rocks off on that, then, can't you? Huh? I shot my wife in the face, right there. She didn't look so pretty after that. And l stood there looking down at her... and l watched her eyes go all empty. I could smell the blood and the shit. Smelled like metal. And the look on his face! He was trying to get her back to life and l was pissing myself laughing... because I took both the bastards out with one fucking bullet. Yeah. And now you've got your little bullet, haven't you? Got what you want. So bring it all on, kiddo. Bring it all into court. Except you can't, can you? Let's see, now, first year law, double jeopardy. I went to trial, you lost. Oh, pity about that. It doesn't matter what you do now. It doesn't matter what you know. I mean, she could come back from the dead, you see... and testify, spill the beans, and it would mean... nothing. So you can't touch me... ever.

And be grateful. Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.

Remarkable boy. I do admire your courage. I think I'll eat your heart.

Shh. Don't move. You're in shock now. I don't want you to feel any pain. In a moment, you'll begin to feel light-headed, then drowsy. Don't resist, it's so gentle, like slipping into a warm bath. I regret it came to this, Will, but every game must have its ending.

My dear Will, you must be healed by now… on the outside at least, I hope you're not too ugly. What a collection of scars you have. Never forget who gave you the best of them, and be grateful, our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real. We live in a primitive time, don't we, Will? Neither savage nor wise. Half measures are the curse of it, any rational society will either kill me or put me to some use. Do you dream much, Will? I think of you often. Your old friend, Hannibal Lector.

Then here's one… you stink of fear under that cheap lotion. You stink of fear Will, but you're not a coward. You fear me, but still you came here. You fear this shy boy, yet still you seek him out. Don't you understand, Will? You caught me because we're very much alike. Without our imaginations, we'd be like all those other poor… dullards. Fear… is the price of our instrument. But I can help you bear it.

I'll call you if I think of anything else, would you perhaps like to leave me your home phone number?

Tell me, Will. Did you enjoy it? Your first murder? Of course you did. And why shouldn't it feel good? It does to God. Why only last week in Texas, he dropped a church roof on the heads of 34 of his worshippers, just as they were groveling for him. He wouldn't begrudge you for one Journalist.

You will not persuade me with appeals to my intellectual vanity.

A robin red-breast in a cage, puts all of Heaven in a rage. Think to yourself that every day is your last. The hour to which you do not look forward will come as a welcome surprise. As for me, when you want a good laugh, you will find me in fine state… fat and sleek, a true hog of Epicurus's herd.

Ah yes Dr. Chillton. Gruesome isn't he? Fumbles at your head like a freshman pulling at a panty girdle.

First he kills the pet, and then the family. Freddy was your pet, Will.

Have you seen blood in the moonlight? It appears quite black.

Beneath the yellow folder, you'll find your latest rejection slip from the archives. It was brought to me by mistake with some of my archives mail. I'm afraid I opened it without looking. Sorry.

And how is the young Josh and the lovely Molly? They're always in my thoughts, you know.

Do you like my little exercise cage, Will? My so-called lawyer is always nagging Dr. Chilton for better accommodations. I don't know which is the greater fool.

Think to yourself that every day is your last. The hour to which you do not look forward will come as a welcome surprise. As for me, when you want a good laugh, you will find me in fine state, fat and sleek, a true hog of Epicurus's herd.

Has it occurred to you he may be disfigured or consider himself to be disfigured?

In my philosophy, Mr. Benn, a man cannot call himself well-contented until he has done all he can to be of service to his employer. Of course, this assumes that one's employer is a superior person, not only in rank, or wealth, but in moral stature.

I was too busy serving to listen to the speeches.

You know what I am doing, Miss Kenton? I am placing my thoughts elsewhere while you chatter away.

Miss Kenton, I'm very busy. I am surprised that you have nothing better to do than stand around all day...

Miss Kenton, I would ask you to keep your voice down. What would the other servants think to hear us shouting at the top of our voices about... Chinamen?

I'm sorry sir, but I am unable to be of assistance in this matter.

If two members of staff have to fall in love and decide to get married, there's nothing one can say. But what I do find a major irritation are those persons who are simply going from post to post looking for romance.

You know what I'm doing, Miss Kenton? I'm placing my thoughts elsewhere as you chatter away.

Oh it's not a guilty smile. I'm simply amused by the sheer nonsense you sometimes talk.

Well, you must be right Miss Kenton, you always are.

Miss Kenton, you mean a great deal to this house. You're extremely important to this house. Miss Kenton.

Do you know what I'm doing, Miss Kenton? I'm putting my thoughts elsewhere while you chatter on.

Quite recently, you were kind enough to suggest that I go on a little holiday. That I take a trip around the country.

Well, in the past, the world always used to come to this house, in a manner of speaking, if I may say so, sir.

Yes, I'm sorry sir. The rule of the kitchen here has always been that the cook cooks the cook's breakfast while her assistant toast's the toast.

I regard this room as my private place of work and I - I prefer to keep distractions to a minimum.

I appreciate your kindness, Miss Kenton, but I prefer to keep things as they are.

Each one of you has his own particular duty - or her duty. Polished brass, brilliant silver, mahogany shining like a mirror. That is the welcome we will show these foreign visitors - and let them know that they're in England where order and tradition still prevail.

Miss Kenton, there are many things you and I don't understand in this world of today; whereas, his Lordship, understands fully and has studied the larger issues at stake concerning, say, the nature of the Jewry.

I'd be lost without her - - A first rate housekeeper is essential in a house like this where great affairs are decided, between these walls.

To listen to the gentlemen's conversations, would distract me from my work.

Miss Kenton. I really must ask you, please, not to disturb the few moments I have to myself.

There is a saying, a very old saying: when the pupil is ready the master will appear.

This is called a training circle, a master's wheel. This circle will be your world, your whole life. Until I tell you otherwise, there is nothing outside of it.

There is NOTHING outside of it. Captain Love does not exist until I say he exists. As your skill with the sword improves, you will progress to a smaller circle. With each new circle, your world contracts, bringing you that much closer to your adversary, that much closer to retribution.

I gave my life to them, and in return I lost everything. My wife was murdered before my eyes, and my child was stolen to be raised by my mortal enemy.

No, I will take my daughter. And don't pretend she means nothing to you.

You're too young to understand.

Alejandro, I taught you everything you needed to survive. Now, I must look to my own heart. Elena is all I have left, I'm not going to lose her again.

They still have Zorro.

You have passion, Alejandro, and your skill is growing. But to enter Montero's world, I must give you something which is completely beyond your reach.

No, not today. He is trained to kill. You seem trained to drink. Oh, yes, my friend, you would have fought very bravely, and died very quickly. Who then would avenge your brother?

You cannot imagine, Rafael, how I have dreamed of this moment, night and day, twenty long years.

And suddenly lightning flashed and a mighty thunder shook the wasted land, and the evil king glared at the good prince and said... something very forgettable.

The world is a very strange place… to have found you at last - only to lose you again.

It's only the sound of my voice. Soon she will have no time for them.

This man is black. We can all see that. But can we also see as easily that which is equally true: that he is the only true hero in this room? Now, if he were white, he wouldn't be standing before this court fighting for his life. If he were white and his enslavers were British, he wouldn't be standing, so heavy the weight of the medals and honors we would bestow upon him. Songs would be written about him. The great authors of our times would fill books about him. His story would be told and retold, in our classrooms. Our children, because we would make sure of it, would know his name as well as they know Patrick Henry's. Yet, if the South is right, what are we to do with that embarrassing, annoying document, The Declaration of Independence? What of its conceits? "All men created equal," "inalienable rights," "life, liberty," and so on and so forth? What on Earth are we to do with this? I have a modest suggestion.

James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, George Washington… John Adams. We've long resisted asking you for guidance. Perhaps we have feared in doing so, we might acknowledge that our individuality, which we so, so revere, is not entirely our own. Perhaps we've feared an… an appeal to you might be taken for weakness. But, we've come to understand, finally, that this is not so. We understand now, we've been made to understand, and to embrace the understanding… that who we are is who we were. We desperately need your strength and wisdom to triumph over our fears, our prejudices, ourselves. Give us the courage to do what is right. And if it means civil war? Then let it come. And when it does, may it be, finally, the last battle of the American Revolution.

Well, gentlemen, I must say I differ with the keen minds of the South and with our President, who apparently shares their views, offering that the natural state of mankind is instead - and I know this is a controversial idea - is freedom. Is freedom. And the proof is the length to which a man, woman or child will go to regain it once taken. He will break loose his chains. He will decimate his enemies. He will try and try and try, against all odds, against all prejudices, to get home.

Well, when I was an attorney, a long time ago, young man, I err... I realized, after much trial and error, that in the courtroom, whoever tells the best story wins. In un-lawyerlike fashion, I give you that scrap of wisdom free of charge.

Does that pretty much sum up what you are? A Georgian? Is that your story? No you're an ex-slave whose devoted his life to the abolition of slavery, and overcoming the obstacles and hardships along the way, I should imagine. That's your story, isn't it?

You and this young so-called lawyer have proven you know what they are. They're Africans. Congratulations. What you don't know, and as far as I can tell haven't bothered in the least to discover, is who they are. Right?

This is the most important case ever to come before this court. Because what it in fact concerns is the very nature of man.

Caesar. Cicero's appeal was to Julius Caesar, not Claudius. Claudius would not be born for another 100 years. You were right, there was one of them.

Your Honor, I derive much consolation from the fact that my colleague, Mr. Baldwin here, has argued the case in so able, and so complete a manner, as to leave me scarcely anything to say. However... why are we here? How is it that a simple, plain property issue has should now find itself so ennobled as to be argued before the Supreme Court of the United States of America?

How is it that a simple plain property issue should now find itself so ignobled as to be argued before the Supreme Court of the United States of America? I mean, do we fear that all courts which found for as easily somehow missed the truth, is that it? Or is it rather our great and consuming fear of Civil War that has allowed us to heap symbolism upon a simple case than ever has been? And now it would have us disregard truth, even as it stands before us tall and proud as a man. The truth... the truth, has been driven from this case like a slave from court to court, wretched and destitute.

One tries to govern wisely, strongly. One tries to govern in a way that betters the lives of one's villagers. One tries to kill the lion. Unfortunately, one isn't always wise enough or strong enough. Time passes and the moment is gone. Now, listen, Cinque, listen, we're about - we're about to bring your case before the highest court in our land. We're about to do battle with a lion that is threatening to rip our country in two. Huh? And all we have on our side is a rock. Of course, you didn't ask to be at the center of this historic conflagration anymore than I did; but, we find ourselves here, nonetheless, by some mysterious mix of circumstances and all the world watching. So, what are we to do? Huh?

Cinque, look, I'm being honest with you. Anything less would be disrespectful. I'm telling you. I'm preparing you, I suppose. I'm explaining to you. That the test ahead of us is an exceptionally difficult one.

Alone? In deed, not. We have right at our side. We have righteousness at our side! We have Mr. Baldwin over there.

Truth has been driven from this case like a slave, flogged from court to court, wretched and destitute.

The Queen again and again refers to our 'incompetent' courts. Now, what I wonder would be more to her liking? Huh? A court that finds against the Africans? Well, I think not. And here is the fine point of it. What Her Majesty wants is a court that behaves just like her courts - the courts this 11 year old child plays with in her magical kingdom called Spain. A court that will do what it is told. A court that - can be toyed with like a doll. A court , as it happens, of which our own President, Martin Van Buren, would be most proud.

'Cause I can assure you, sir, having been over there, only one thing occupies his thoughts this time of the year, being all things to all people, which, of course, means be nothing to no one. In other words, gettin' himself re-elected.

I feel as if I'm losing my all leaves…

Yeah.

The branches and the wind and the rain. I don't know what's happening anymore. Do you know what's happening?

All this business about the flat. I… I have nowhere to put my head down anymore. But I know my watch is on my wrist, that I do know. For the journey. If not, I… Don't know if I'll… be ready to, uh… To… To…

Paris. They don't even speak English there.

Who exactly am I?

I don't need any help from anyone. And I'm not going to leave my flat. All I want is for everyone to fuck off. Having said that... it's been a great pleasure. Au revoir. Toodle-oo.

Can I ask you a question?

Are you a nun?

Then why are you speaking to me as if I'm retarded?

I want my mummy.

I am worried. It's very worrying. I mean... Losing all my things, everyone's just helping themselves, and... If this goes on much longer, um, I'll be stark naked. And, um, I... I won't be able to tell what time it is.

Why don't you just fuck off with your medication?

World is turning.

They don't even speak English.

There's something doesn't make sense about this. Doesn't make sense.

Oh villains, Chiron and Demetrius. Here stands the spring whom you have stained with mud, this goodly summer with your winter mixed. You killed her husband, and for that vile fault two of her brothers were condemned to death, my hand cut off and made a merry jest, both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, inhuman traitors, you constrained and forced. What would you say if I should let you speak? Villains, for shame, you could not beg for grace. Hark, wretches, how I mean to martyr you. This one hand yet is left to cut your throats whilst that Lavinia, 'tween her stumps doth hold the basin that receives your guilty blood. You know, your mother means to feast with me and calls herself Revenge and thinks me mad. Hark, villains. I shall grind your bones to dust, and with your blood and it I shall make a paste, and of the paste a coffin I will rear and make two pastries of your shameful heads. And bid that strumpet, your unhallowed dam, like to the earth, swallow her own increase! This is the feast I have bid her to, and this the banquet she shall surfeit on... And now prepare your throats.

He that wounded her hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead.

Rome is but a wilderness of tigers.

Kind Rome, that hast thoust lovingly reserved the cordial of mine age to glad my heart! Lavinia, live, outlive thy father's days and fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise.

O handle not the theme, to talk of hands, Lest we remember still, that we have none.

Love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. I say, fall head over heels. Find someone you can love like crazy and who will love you the same way back. How do you find him? Well, you forget your head, and you listen to your heart. And I'm not hearing any heart. Cause the truth is, honey, there's no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love, well, you haven't lived a life at all. But you have to try, cause if you haven't tried, you haven't lived.

I thought I was going to sneak away tonight. What a glorious night. Every face I see is a memory. It may not be a perfectly perfect memory. Sometimes we had our ups and downs. But we're all together, and you're mine for a night. And I'm going to break precedent and tell you my one candle wish: that you would have a life as lucky as mine, where you can wake up one morning and say, "I don't want anything more." Sixty-five years. Don't they go by in a blink?

I loved Susan from the moment she was born, and I love her now and every minute in between. And what I dream of is a man who will discover her, and that she will discover a man who will love her, who is worthy of her, who is of this world, this time and has the grace, compassion, and fortitude to walk beside her as she makes her way through this beautiful thing called life.

I want you to know how much I love you, that you've given a meaning to my life that I had no right to expect, that no one can ever take from me.

No! I love you so much. And I want you to promise me something. I don't want you to ever worry about me. And if anything should happen, I'm gonna be okay. And everything's gonna be all right. And I have no regrets. And I want you to feel the same way.

Does she know here she's going? Huh? You see, Susan went for that poor son of a bitch whose body you took. And everything else since has been aftermath. You say you love her but you don't know what love is. She loves you, she doesn't know who you are. You make a deal you're breaking it. Bottom line is, Joe, you're swindling her soul, and you're doing it with your eyes wide open.

I don't want anybody buying up my life's work! Turning it into something it wasn't meant to be. A man wants to leave something behind. And he wants it left behind the way he made it. He wants it to be run the way he run it, with a sense of honor, of dedication, of truth. Okay?

You wanna know? I'll tell you. You're looking at a man who is not walking through the valley of the shadow of death. He's galloping into it. At the same time, the business he built with his own hands and head has been commandeered by a couple of cheap pirates. Oh, yes! I almost forgot. My daughter's fallen in love with Death.

A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.

Well, Clarice - have the lambs stopped screaming?

Five foot ten, strongly built, about a hundred and eighty pounds; hair blonde, eyes pale blue. He'd be about thirty-five now. He said he lived in Philadelphia, but he may have lied. That's all I can remember, mum, but if I think of any more, I will let you know. Oh, and Senator, just one more thing: love your suit!

Look for severe childhood disturbances associated with violence. Our Billy wasn't born a criminal, Clarice. He was made one through years of systematic abuse. Billy hates his own identity, you see, and he thinks that makes him a transsexual. But his pathology is a thousand times more savage and more terrifying.

You know what you look like to me, with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube. A well scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste. Good nutrition's given you some length of bone, but you're not more than one generation from poor white trash, are you, Agent Starling? And that accent you've tried so desperately to shed: pure West Virginia. What is your father, dear? Is he a coal miner? Does he stink of the lamp? You know how quickly the boys found you… all those tedious sticky fumblings in the back seats of cars… while you could only dream of getting out… getting anywhere… getting all the way to the FBI.

I've been in this room for eight years, now Clarice, and I know they'll never let me out, not while I'm alive. What I want is a view where I can see a tree, or even water. I want to be in a federal institution far away from Doctor Chiltern. I'll help you catch him, Clarice.

People don't always tell you what they are thinking. They just see to it that you don't advance in life.

As your mother tells you, and my mother certainly told me, it is important, she always used to say, always to try new things.

...would they have you back, you think? The FBI? Those people you despise almost as much as they despise you. Would they give you a medal, Clarice, do you think? Would you have it professionally framed and hang it on your wall to look at and remind you of your courage and incorruptibility? All you would need for that, Clarice, is a mirror.

Dear Clarice, I have followed with enthusiasm the course of your disgrace and public shaming. My own never bothered me, except for the inconvenience of being incarcerated, but you may lack perspective. In our discussions down in the dungeon, it was apparent to me that your father, the dead night watchman, figures largely in your value system. I think your success in putting an end to Jame Gumb's career as a couturier pleased you most because you could imagine your father being pleased. But now, alas, you're in bad odour with the FBI. Do you imagine your daddy being shamed by your disgrace? Do you see him in his plain pine box crushed by your failure; a sorry, petty end of a promising career? What is worst about this humiliation, Clarice? Is it how your failure will reflect on your mommy and daddy? Is your worst fear that people will now and forever believe they were indeed just good old trailer-camp tornado-bait white trash, and that perhaps you are too? By the way I couldn't help noticing on the FBI's rather dull public website that I have been hoisted from the Bureau's archives of the common criminal and elevated to the more prestigious 10 Most Wanted list. Is this coincidence, or are you back on the case? If so, goody goody, 'cause I need to come out of retirement and return to public life. I imagine you sitting in a dark basement room bent over papers and computer screens. Is that accurate? Please tell me truly, Special Agent Starling. Regards, your old pal, Hannibal Lecter, M.D.

P.S. Clearly this new assignment is not your choice, rather I suppose it is a part of the bargain, but you accepted it, Clarice. Your job is to craft my doom, so I am not sure how well I should wish you, but I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun. Ta-ta, "H".

Harmed them, Clarice. The ones who've harmed you. What if I made them scream apologies? No, I shouldn't even say it because you'll feel - with your perfect grasp on right and wrong - that you were somehow accompli- even though you wouldn't be.

Do you know what a roller pigeon is, Barney? They climb high and fast, then roll over and fall just as fast toward the earth. There are shallow rollers and deep rollers. You can't breed two deep rollers, or their young will roll all the way down, hit, and die. Officer Starling is a deep roller, Barney. We should hope one of her parents was not.