Man dies the way he was born: soft, weak and helpless. Death, the one certainty in this universe of chaos, can be both a tragic end and a release from suffering, It can come as an unexpected twist, or as a beautiful, crowning counterpart to a live well lived. The curse we face as humanity, the only living beings in constant awareness of death, is our inordinate focus on the fact. How much happier is the life of the gazelle that escapes the cheetah's clutches, thinking that it evaded death once and for all, than the poor soul living out his days knowing each step inches him closer to the void!

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.

You can't know Night City well, ever. It's always changin', always surprisin'. Part of its charm.

He burned down half the city just to prove he was right and burned the other half just for fun.

Frank: Jenkins is your lead, right? Is he what everyone says he is?
V: What's everyone say about Jenkins?
Frank: That he's effective. Like any psychopath. Apparently, he's gone a little crazier lately.