Jose Chung: Unlike profiling serial killers, writing is a lonely and depressing profession.

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Alex Ventoux: God doesn’t move us by telling us the facts. He moves us by pains and contradictions. He’s given me a lack of understanding: not answers, but questions. An invitation to marvel.

Tom Black: I feel nothing. There’s nothing inside. None of this is real.

Bob Bletcher: If it was 500 years ago, you’d have been burned as a witch.
Frank Black: Nothing I do is magic, Bob.
Bob Bletcher: Yeah, a lot of people shouted just that from the middle of a bonfire.

William Gary: Do you know what it’s like to scream in silence three hundred and sixty five days of the year?

Bob Bletcher: What do you see?
Frank Black: I see what the killer sees.
Bob Bletcher: What, like a psychic?
Frank Black: No. I put myself in his head. I become the thing we fear the most.
Bob Bletcher: How?
Frank Black: I become capability. I become the horror. What we know we can become only in our heart of darkness. It’s my gift. It’s my curse.