Would you rather live in peace as Mr. Nobody, die ripe, old and smellin' slightly of urine? Or go down for all times in a glaze of glory, smellin' near like posies, 'thout seein' your thirtieth?

V: Guess I meant, I dunno... a happier ending... for everyone involved.
Johnny: Here, for folks like us? Wrong city, wrong people.

Oo, I love this town! Love it like you might love a mother who popped you out on the steps of an orphanage and now stops you to ask if you got a smoke for her!

When you live among humans, it's essential to find a shared, fundamental point of understanding. "Truth" and "Good" are values proven to cause division, whereas beauty is universal.

The wind whistling through boarded-up windows. Tumbleweeds scratching across dry, sandy tracks. That's how towns die. Not with a bang, but with whispers and whimpers.