[speaking to Two-Face] Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it! You know, I just, do things. The mob has plans, the cops have plans, Gordon's got plans. You know, they're schemers. Schemers trying to control their worlds. I'm not a schemer. I try to show the schemers how, pathetic, their attempts to control things really are. So, when I say, ah, come here, when I say that you and your girlfriend was nothing personal, you know that I'm telling the truth.
It's the schemers that put you where you are. You were a schemer, you had plans, and uh, look where that got you. I just did what I do best. I took your plan and I turned it on itself. Look what I did, to this city with a few drums of gas and a couple of bullets. Hm? You know what, you know what I noticed? Nobody panics when things go according to plan. Even if the plan is horrifying. If tomorrow I tell the press that like a gang banger, will get shot, or a truckload of soldiers will be blown up, nobody panics, because it's all, part of the plan. But when I say that one, little old mayor will die, well then everyone loses their minds!
[Joker hands Two-Face a gun and points it at himself] Introduce a little anarchy. Upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I'm an agent of chaos. Oh and you know the thing about chaos, it's fair.
Las estaciones se desean unas a otras, como los hombres y las mujeres, para curarse de sus excesos.
La primavera, si pervive más de una semana a su tiempo, empieza a ansiar el verano para dar fin a los días de promesa perpetua. El verano, a su vez, pronto empieza a sufrir por algo que sacie su calor y el más suave de los otoños se cansará al fin del refinamiento y suspirará por una escarcha rápida que mate su fecundidad.
Incluso el invierno, la estación más dura, la más implacable, sueña, a medida que avanza febrero de puntillas, con la llama que dentro de poco lo derretirá. Todo se cansa con el tiempo y empieza a buscar cierta oposición para salvarse de sí mismo.
Así que agosto dio paso a septiembre y no hubo muchas quejas.
For a moment Ann only looked at him with something flickering far back in her eyes, and Ghost thought she might throw her cup at his head. But then she looked at her burning cigarette as if she had just realized it was there in her hand, and she sucked smoke deep into her lungs, coughed a little, and answered him. Her voice was hoarser than usual. “I believe in whatever gets you through the night,” she said. “Night is the hardest time to be alive. For me, anyway. It lasts so long, and four A.M. knows all my secrets.
(Poppy Z. Brite - Lost Souls)
Sometimes your old alter-egos come back and haunt you. And anyway, this is my favourite quote at 4am.