Fighting was the only thing I was ever good at, but at least I always fought for what I believed in.
This is your fault. I'm going to kill you. And all the cake is gone. You don't even care, do you?
It ain't no secret I didn't get these scars falling over in church.
The genius of the hole: No matter how long you spend climbing out, you can still fall back down in an instant.
I raised you, and loved you. I've given you weapons, taught you techniques, endowed you with knowledge. There's nothing more for me to give you. All that's left for you to take is my life.
Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong.
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Just when you thought you had reached the deepest depths of horror, it suddenly got worse. How to turn off that small voice inside your head that started to whisper that you should be glad… that now, if not before, your revenge was justifiable on any conceivable moral scale. That small voice proved, beyond any doubt, that I was damned.
Life is a negotiation. We all want. We all give to get what we want.
Boss... you were right. It's not about changing the world. It's about doing our best to leave the world... the way it is. It's about respecting the will of others, and believing in your own.
They let me pick, did I ever tell you that? Choose whichever Spartan I wanted. You know me. I did my research. Watched as you became the soldier we needed you to be. Like the others, you were strong and swift and brave. A natural leader. But you had something they didn't. Something no one saw... but me. Can you guess? Luck. Was I wrong?
It's easy to forget what a sin is in the middle of a battlefield.
Rise and shine, Mr. Freeman. Rise and shine. Not that I wish to imply you have been sleeping on the job. No one is more deserving of a rest. And all the effort in the world would have gone to waste until... well, let's just say your hour has come again. The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world. So, wake up, Mr. Freeman. Wake up and smell the ashes.
Death is inevitable. Our fear of it makes us play safe, blocks out emotion. It's a losing game. Without passion, you are already dead.
Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. Their silence is your answer.
The healthy human mind doesn't wake up in the morning thinking this is its last day on Earth. But I think that's a luxury, not a curse. To know you're close to the end is a kind of freedom. Good time to take... inventory. Outgunned. Outnumbered. Out of our minds. On a suicide mission. But the sands and rocks here stained with thousands of years of warfare... they will remember us. For this. Because out of all our vast array of nightmares, this is the one we choose for ourselves. We go forward like a breath exhaled from the Earth. With Vigor in our hearts and one goal in sight: We. Will. Kill him.
We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment... and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly.
They offered you the city, and you refused it. And what did you do instead? What I've come to expect from you; you saved them. You gave them the one thing that was stolen from them. A chance. A chance to learn. To find love. To live. And in the end what was your reward? You never said. But I think I know: a family.
Good men mean well. We just don't always end up doing well.
Nothing is more badass than treating a woman with respect.
No Gods or kings. Only man.
I am Andrew Ryan, and I'm here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No!' says the man in Washington, 'It belongs to the poor.' 'No!' says the man in the Vatican, 'It belongs to God.' 'No!' says the man in Moscow, 'It belongs to everyone.' I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Rapture, a city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.
Sofia Sartor: You mentioned a creed before. What is it?
Ezio Auditore: Nothing is true, everything is permitted.
Sofia Sartor: That is rather cynical.
Ezio Auditore: It would be if it were doctrine. But it is merely an observation on the nature of reality. To say that nothing is true is to realize that the foundations of society are fragile and that we must be the shepherds of our own civilization. To say that everything is permitted is to understand that we are the architects of our actions and that we must live with our consequences, whether glorious or tragic.
I have seen worlds bathed in the Makers' flames. Their denizens fading without so much as a whimper. Entire planetary systems born and raised in the time that it takes your mortal hearts to beat once. Yet all throughout, my own heart, devoid of emotion... of empathy. I... have... felt... nothing! A million, million lives wasted. Had they all held within them your tenacity? Had they all loved life as you do?
