“I will make a murderer out of him.” Hannibal probably declared in his mind at one point, his reflection in the mirror smirking at his own self-judged brilliance, and then there he is, a few months later, carving a broken heart out of Anthony Dimmond and placing it in front of god, then smiling secretively to his inwardly shivering (and high) psychiatrist about how capricious love is while playing a whimsical tune on the piano in his nice Florentine house.

In Naka-choko he tells Margot that she failed to murder Mason because she still loves him, that love makes a person senseless, that hatred makes one be present and calculating. That she must allow herself to hate Mason. And I really think all of this was very ironic in hindsight.