People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.

It's not death if you refuse it... It is if you accept it.

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

It can't rain all the time.

Death, like virtue, has its degrees.

There is a man, playing a violin, and the strings are the nerves in his own arm.

Funboy: Pal, something is seriously wrong with you. The Crow: Atrocity has that effect on me.