Truth is a well-known pathological liar. It invariably turns out to be Fiction wearing a fancy frock. Self-proclaimed Fiction, on the other hand, is entirely honest. You can tell this, because it comes right out and says, "I'm a Liar," right there on the dust jacket.

I'm not a particularly dark individual. I have my moments, it's true, but I do have a sense of humor.

I didn't put you in a prison, Evey. I just showed you the bars.

Your pretty empire took so long to build, now, with a snap of history's fingers, down it goes.

Famously, there's not really anywhere to go after nihilism. It's not progressing toward anything, it's a statement of outrage, however brilliant.

I did it thirty-five minutes ago.

It's pretty much a fact that our entire universe is a mental construct. We don't actually deal with reality directly. We simply compose a picture of reality from what's going on in our retinas, in the timpani of our ears, and in our nerve endings.