There is a certain finesse most wouldn't understand. Murder is an art. It takes a rather skilled hand to know where to cut, where to sever, where to rip apart in order to cause a heart to stop beating.

[ There's a pause and what seems to be an intake of breath from a cigarette. ]

I wouldn't call merely butchering art, however. A clean cut. That is beauty. Of course, I take this all from a medical standpoint.

[ But what kind of doctor would find beauty in death? ]