"Yeah, see I'll tell you what the alternative is. It's not that complicated. It's about one man and this gun versus another man. Sure, civilization may be dull, but the alternative, Mr. Marston, is hell."
Commie ghosts what don't know they're dead. Hoping to steal our rockets so they can fly up and paint the moon pink and draw a Lenin face on it.
God took a rest day on the 7th, but we don't! 7 days of work all the time!
The road to Hell is paved - by Argent energy.
Unlike everything else in your life, the work you do here matters!
Weaponizing deamons. For a brighter tomorrow!
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It's said war - war never changes. Men do, through the roads they walk. And this road... has reached its end.
The curse of much knowledge is often indecision.
Everything here is meant to kill at your discretion. Except for me. I only kill when I want to.
I've got a weapon for every situation. Hunting, protection, cold blooded murder, HOT blooded murder.
Each weapon tested on someone who deserved it.
Anything that can kill a man, I sell. Except suicidal depression.That is unfortunately not packageable.
One of the joys of top notch taste receptors is getting to enjoy the full flavour without the nasty hangover.
The past, the present and the future walked into a bar. It was tense.
Even at the worst of times, things aren't so bad when you're around, sir/mum.
This is all much more exciting than domestic life I assure you!
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We don't have to dream we are important. We are.
Truth is, the game was rigged from the start.
It's like... Did you ever try to put a broken piece of glass back together? Even if the pieces fit, you can't make it whole again the way it was. But if you're clever, you can still use the pieces to make other useful things. Maybe even something wonderful, like a mosaic.
No need for bombs, when hate will do.
The thing about happiness is that you only know you had it when it's gone. I mean, you may think to yourself that you're happy.
But you don't really believe it. You focus on the pretty bullshit, or the next job, or whatever.
It's only looking back by comparison with what comes after that you really understand, that's what happiness felt like.
Danse: "Keep away from me, you filthy ghoul."
Hancock: "Don't flatter yourself, crew cut. You ain't my type."
The Railroad? Aren't they busy liberating vending machines and saving computers?
So a ghoul walks into a bar...
Bartender says: "We don't serve any ghouls here."
Ghoul says: "That's fine. Is the human fresh?"
Player: No machine should have free will.
Nick Valentine: Why? You jealous you had to turn yours in?
