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Hannibal Lecktor: Hello, Will. I want to congratulate you on the job you did on Mr. Lounds. I admire that enormously — oh, what a cunning boy you are! Will Graham: I'm sick of you crazy sons of bitches, Lecktor. You got something to say, say it. Hannibal Lecktor: I want to help you. You would be more comfortable if you would relax with yourself. We don't invent our natures; they're issued to us, along with our lungs and pancreas and everything else. Why fight it? Will Graham: Fight what? Hannibal Lecktor: Did you really feel so depressed after you shot Mr. Garret Jacob Hobbs to death? I didn't know you then, but I think you probably did. But it wasn't the act that got you so down. Didn't you feel so bad because killing him felt so good? And why shouldn't it feel good? It must feel good to God. He does it all the time. God's terrific. He dropped a roof on 34 of His worshipers last Wednesday night as they were groveling through a hymn to His majesty. Don't you think that felt good? Will Graham: Why does it feel good, Dr. Lecktor? Hannibal Lecktor: It feels good, Will, because God has power. If one does what God does enough times, one will become as God is.

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