But can you hear the screaming of the lambs at night, when you lie in your bed agonizing over all the lost years of your life, wasted on the farm, the dust of the fields so deep under your nails that you can never scrub it out. Did the city girls laugh at you when you came to school in your home-sewn hand-me-downs? Save one, Clarice, save just one lamb, and you may save your soul. Then the screaming will stop and you can rest, forever.