Two of her fingernails are broken off, and there's dirt or grit under them.
The Silence of the Lambs
9.5s
By now he could be anywhere. -He won't come after me. -Oh, really? No, he won't. I can't explain it. He would consider that rude.
The Silence of the Lambs
4s
No. It is your turn to tell me, Clarice.
The Silence of the Lambs
59.6s
Read Marcus Aurelius. Of each particular thing, ask what is it in itself? What is its nature? What does he do, this man you seek? He kills women. No! That is incidental. What is the first and principal thing he does? What needs does he serve by killing? Anger. Social acceptance and sexual frustrations... No! He covets. That is his nature. And how do we begin to covet, Clarice? Do we seek out things to covet? Make an effort to answer now. No. We just... No. We begin by coveting what we see every day. Don't you feel eyes moving over your body, Clarice? And don't your eyes seek out the things you want?
The Silence of the Lambs
1.6s
No movement.
The Silence of the Lambs
7.8s
If I had sent you in there with an actual agenda, Lecter would have known it instantly. He would have toyed with you, then turned to stone.
The Silence of the Lambs
5.5s
-Time, Pilch. My move. -No fair. You lured him with produce. Tough noogies. Still my turn.
The Silence of the Lambs
1.7s
One in the leg.
The Silence of the Lambs
4.7s
We're pretty sure he's somewhere on two, sir. That's all for now. Over.
The Silence of the Lambs
5.5s
The contract is in the name of a Miss Hester Mofet.
The Silence of the Lambs
3.3s
I sure appreciate you letting me take a look around, Mr. Bimmel.
The Silence of the Lambs
7.7s
Ligature marks found around the wrists, not around the ankles. This would indicate that the skinning was postmortem.
The Silence of the Lambs
6.4s
Oh, Agent Starling, you think you can dissect me with this blunt, little tool? No.
The Silence of the Lambs
3.7s
Oh, Jack. What do you make of these?
The Silence of the Lambs
17.6s
A well-scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste. Good nutrition has 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.
