No one really runs away from anything. It’s like a private trap that holds us in like a prison. You know what I think? I think that we’re all in our private traps, clamped in them, and none of us can ever get out. We scratch and we claw, but only at the air, only at each other, and for all of it, we never budge an inch.
“Because Norman appears to be uncomfortably evasive, inconsistent, self-incriminating and halting in his replies and insists no one stayed in the motel for a couple of weeks - but then contradicts himself - Arbogast asks to see the register to discover if Marion Crane used an alias. Norman chews nervously on candy, almost bird-like. From a low camera angle, his adam’s apple moves up and down his giraffe-like throat while awkwardly stretching to look at the register.” -Tim Dirks