Rorschach: Used to come here often, back when we were partners. Dreiberg: Oh. Uh, yeah... yeah, those were great times, Rorschach. Great times. Whatever happened to them? Rorschach: [exiting] You quit.

And yet, in each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter... Until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged. To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air to gold... that is the crowning unlikelihood. The thermodynamic miracle.

Artists use lies to tell the truth. Yes, I created a lie. But because you believed it, you found something true about yourself.

I leave the human cockroaches to discuss their heroin and child pornography.

If the audience knew what they wanted then they wouldn't be the audience, they would be the artist.

You know what I wish? I wish all the scum of the Earth had one throat and I had my hands about it.

The only reality we can ever truly know is that of our perceptions, our own consciousness, while that consciousness, and thus our entire reality, is made of nothing but signs and symbols. Nothing but language. Even God requires language before conceiving the Universe. See Genesis: “In the beginning was the Word.