Don't matter how much perfume a corpo sprays on mornings, by lunch that's replaced by the stench of skullduggery.

You get to a certain age, you drop all your illusions. Life just gets easier from there.

You're either somebody or you fizzle out into nothin'. Night City don't let you choose.

NC's legends! Know where you'll find most of 'em?!
The graveyard.

I've always maintained it's the same for all you termites in Heywood. Born here, live her, die here.

You know Heywood. It has strong roots - ever watered by some blood.

What in the goddamn?

When I watched the mushroom clouds rising, I thought that it was someone's sick joke. I'd prayed for something to wipe away the debt, but this was not what I had in mind.

I am a top-of-the-line model with an efficiency rating that makes Mr. Handy look like a glorified toaster oven.

On Sue

Sue is mean and not nice
That is why I shot her twice.

The end

On Grisworld

Lo to be tough and handsome
Lo to be the best shooter ever
Lo to be Grisworld, Best raider ever

The end

On Sue

Sue is pretty. Sue is nice.
Sue can shoot real good
even at night.

I love Sue.

The end.

On Death

Lo, to die. To kill, to maim.
I really like to watch men die.

I hope nobody kills me.
So I can kill them instead.

The end.

I might have had just a bit of Jet before operating. So I nipped a few arteries I shouldn't have? Who hasn't?

Good patients get a nice, new face. Bad patients bleed all over the floor because they want to screw up their surgeon's life!

He wants to lay his hands on a woman. He'll be eating through a tube before I let that happen.

It's only that one spot you need armoured too - the one the bullet hits.

Player: Looks like drinking hasn't turned out too well for me.
Electrochemistry: MAYBE YOU HAVEN'T TURNED OUT WELL FOR YOUR DRINKING?!

Ooh, the piggies have learned to saunter up staircases. I didn't think you could do that with hooves. But - her you are.

René, you're a man with a fork in a world of soup.

If ther ever was such a thing as an ugly kid, then this is it. He's almost exquisite in his ugliness. Like a gremlin.

Mirror: A mirror hangs above a bent and broken sink. In a fierce discharge of masculine energy, someone has ripped half of the faucet off.

Conceptualization: Was this not the same elan that founds empires and lays waste to cities, virile, uncaring towards the little things?

Ancient Reptilian Brain: There is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness. Your conscience ferments in it - no largher than a single grain of malt. You don't have to do anything anymore.
Ever.
Never ever.

Player: Never ever ever?

The furies are at home in the mirror; it is their address. Even the clearest water, if deep enough can drown.

Ther is no tool that is not also a weapon; and no human that would wield it as one.