Arkham Asylum Quotes

Enough madness? Enough? And how do you measure madness? - The Joker

Sometimes it’s only madness that makes us what we are.

I run blindly through the madhouse ... And I cannot even pray ... For I have no God.

How had I ever thought he was cute? He so needed to be locked up in an insane asylum somewhere. Too bad Batman wasn't here to come and drag his ass off to Arkham.

It's salt. Why don't you sprinkle some on me, honey? Aren't I just good enough to eat?

Then I reminded myself that all intelligent children suffer bad dreams.

The moon is so beautiful. It's a big silver dollar, flipped by God. And it landed scarred side up, see? So He made the world.

Sometimes... sometimes I think the Asylum is a head. We're inside a huge head that dreams us all into being. Perhaps it's your head, Batman. Arkham is a looking glass... and we are you.

Afraid? Batman's not afraid of anything. It's me. I'm afraid. I'm afraid that The Joker may be right about me. Sometimes…I question the rationality of my actions. And I’m afraid that when I walk through those asylum gates... when I walk into Arkham and the doors close behind me... it’ll be just like coming home.

Einstein was wrong! I'M the speed of light CRACKING through shivery rainbows and GOD the sky whirls and withers like a melting RAINBOW!

It's quite possible we may actually be looking at some kind of super-sanity here. A brilliant new modification of human perception, more suited to urban life at the end of the twentieth century...He creates himself each day. He sees himself as the lord of misrule and the world as a theatre of the absurd.

I see now the virtue in madness, for this country knows no law nor any boundary. I pity the poor shades confined to the Euclidean prison that is sanity

I should say I am far more cleverer than any of the people who put me here. As a matter of fact, I could leave any time I wanted. It's only a doll house after all. Anyway, I don't mind. I like dolls. Particularly the live ones.

Routine is important, I think. A good routine diverts the mind from morbid imaginings.

And I ask him why he cuts his arms with a razor. "Just fo feel. Just to feel something.

Oh, yes! Fill the churches with dirty thoughts! Introduce honesty to the White House! Write letters in dead languages to people you've never met! Paint filthy words on the foreheads of children! Burn your credit cards and wear high heels! Asylum doors stand open! Fill the suburbs with murder and rape! Divine madness! Let there be ecstasy, ecstasy in the streets! Laugh and the world laughs with you!

I'm thinking of killing everyone whose name is a palindrome

Say, what's the question mark for? Sexual identity?

Madness is born in the blood. It is my birthright.

it's the lies that get us through life, right?

He openned the door that he assumed was the garage only to find himself in the pantry. crap. "Um . . . grabbing some Pop-Tarts for the road," Nick said, covering his mistake. Still, they both stared at him as if he'd escaped Arkham Asylum. Offering them a fake smile, he grabbed the pastries, crossed himself, and hoped he got the next door correct. Nope. Bathroom. With a pain-filled groan at his rampant stupidity, Nick pretended to use it before he tried again. At least there were only two more doors to go. Fifty-fifty chance. Thankfully, third time was the charm.

Arkham Asylum, founded by Dr. Amadeus Arkham in the early nineteen hundreds, was named after Elizabeth Arkham, Amadeus’ mother. Elizabeth had long suffered from mental illness and eventually committed suicide, although legend had it that Amadeus had actually euthanized her. Whatever

Yeah, that was how they rolled in Gotham City, the world’s biggest cult, where everyone was brainwashed to worship Batman and hate anybody he hated. Anyone who didn’t was declared criminal or crazy and ended up in Iron Heights or Arkham Asylum while Batman flitted around town, cosplaying and ego-tripping.

I take to patrolling the corridors between the hours of three and four in the morning. I visit the secret room often in order that I might keep my journal up to date. Routine is important, I think. A good routine diverts the mind from morbid imaginings. Sometimes I am sure I hear hysterical laughter from a cell I know to be empty. 
 I tape over the mirror in my study. The laughter ceases. 

And I return to my ritual perambulations. My movements through the house have become as formalized as ballet and I feel that I have become an essential part of some incomprehensible biological process. The house is an organism, hungry for madness. It is the maze that dreams. And I am lost.

Enjoy yourself out there... in the asylum.