Batgirl Quotes

I'm not Barbara Gordon. I have to keep remembering that. Tonight, I'm not Barbara. Tonight, I'm not the Police Commissioner's daughter. Tonight, I'm the one who pored over the details of the confidential police and reports when her dad wasn't looking. I'm the one who recognized the vintage costumes you wear. Tonight? Tonight, I'm Batgirl.

Costumes. The clothes we wear over who we really are. Or really want to be

I'm playing 'chicken' with a kid called 'Robin.' I don't know why he's showing off. I don't know why I'm going along with it. I don't even know where we're going. It could be a robbery. Or prison break. A gang war. Or free donuts at Lenny's. He sees that Bat-signal in the sky and takes off. Like a bird out of Hell. And he just expects me to follow him. And I do.

Y'know, a lot of the time it's like you Batguys want me to hold onto the past because you can't get over it. Understand— I have. I have a new life now. One I like — one that fulfills me. It's not the same as the one I had before, but it's good. Maybe even better.

You know why my wheelchair doesn't have handles, Grayson? I don't like to be pushed.

I promise loyalty. I promise secrecy. And I promise courage.

I have to find another path. Divine my own future. One uniquely mine. Not a page from someone else's book. Not a fate that begins and ends on page one.

WHEN I WAS LITTLE, I was so girlie and ambitious, I was practically a drag queen. I wanted to be everything at once: a prima ballerina, an actress, a model, a famous artist, a nurse, an Ice Capades dancer, and Batgirl. I spent inordinate amounts of time waltzing around our living room with a doily on my head, imagining in great detail my promenade down the runway as the new Miss America, during which time I would also happen to receive a Nobel Prize for coloring.

Do you think I like sending out agents to do my dirty work? Do you think I get my thrills living vicariously? Do you think I don't know hurt? Do you think I don't know hurt? You don't know hurt, sister! I can't get off the mat to take down Lynx on my own-- but you can, and by God, you will--

Wait for a hero? Barbara Joan Gordon -- Be your own damn hero.

I use their expectations against them. That will be their weakness. Not mine. Let them all underestimate me. Let them think they have the upper hand over the little girl. Let them relax while the adrenaline leaks out of their systems. Let them believe they're closing their grips on a shrinking violet. And when their guard is down and their pride is rising... let me kick their butts up around their ears.

It's only the end if you want it to be.

Revenge never heals what's broken.

We used to chase each other like this. Two kids flirting in a way only a handful of people on Earth could ever match. He with his acrobatics, and me with my ballet.

You know at the end of the day, when you close the door and you're all alone... And you strip off your armor and lower your guard and peel away the mask... When there's nobody watching and nothing to hide... And you no longer need to be strong or clever or pretty or brave... There's just you. That's it. That's the soul.

Huh. Redheads. What is it about redheads?

I struck out at the people who love me. Because I wanted understanding more than pity. Because I wanted respect more than comfort.

She had to do something. Anything. She had to focus, think, fight. She wasn’t anybody’s point to prove. She was fucking Batgirl. Her body was broken and her mind jagged and fractured by trauma, but she was still alive, and she wasn’t going down without a fight.

Impersonating a quiet, gentle librarian like Barbara Gordon--You deserve to be taken out of circulation!

You listen to me. You try to tell her that she failed that man... And you're not welcome here anymore.

And he was the first crush I ever had that wasn't a scientist-- it's a different thing altogether. It made me a little peeved at myself, to be honest. Half the girls in Gotham City would have been happy just touching his jacket. I didn't want it to happen. But I'm human, all right? And for a while, we were better than kids with a crush. We were actually friends.

All my life, I've had well-meaning guys hovering over me, protecting me when I didn't need or want it. Enough with the well-meaning guys. They want to keep an eye on me? I'll send their eyes back blackened.

Qatar & The West (The Sonnet) All of a sudden the entire west is peeved at Qatar, Because only the west has exclusive rights to exposure. All of a sudden we care about the migrant workers, The Afghans, Palestinians and Kashmiris no longer matter. Human rights issue here is, we don't care about human rights, We only care about filling the air with hypocrisy and mania. Our poster boy just dumped half his new workforce as garbage, We buy Oscar, ditch Batgirl, and we diss Qatar for buying FIFA! We are just peeved that the Arabs are showing off for a change, Sure it's unacceptable, since showing off is a western tradition. Yes, it's true that the Middle East reeks with human rights issues, But it is also teeming with passion beyond western comprehension. If you really care about human rights stick to a cause for more than a fortnight. Otherwise keep your trap shut, lest you open and be proved a privileged white.

I have been all over the world cooking and eating and training under extraordinary chefs. And the two food guys I would most like to go on a road trip with are Anthony Bourdain and Michael Ruhlmann, both of whom I have met, and who are genuinely awesome guys, hysterically funny and easy to be with. But as much as I want to be the Batgirl in that trio, I fear that I would be woefully unprepared. Because an essential part of the food experience that those two enjoy the most is stuff that, quite frankly, would make me ralph. I don't feel overly bad about the offal thing. After all, variety meats seem to be the one area that people can get a pass on. With the possible exception of foie gras, which I wish like heckfire I liked, but I simply cannot get behind it, and nothing is worse than the look on a fellow foodie's face when you pass on the pate. I do love tongue, and off cuts like oxtails and cheeks, but please, no innards. Blue or overly stinky cheeses, cannot do it. Not a fan of raw tomatoes or tomato juice- again I can eat them, but choose not to if I can help it. Ditto, raw onions of every variety (pickled is fine, and I cannot get enough of them cooked), but I bonded with Scott Conant at the James Beard Awards dinner, when we both went on a rant about the evils of raw onion. I know he is often sort of douchey on television, but he was nice to me, very funny, and the man makes the best freaking spaghetti in tomato sauce on the planet. I have issues with bell peppers. Green, red, yellow, white, purple, orange. Roasted or raw. Idk. If I eat them raw I burp them up for days, and cooked they smell to me like old armpit. I have an appreciation for many of the other pepper varieties, and cook with them, but the bell pepper? Not my friend. Spicy isn't so much a preference as a physical necessity. In addition to my chronic and severe gastric reflux, I also have no gallbladder. When my gallbladder and I divorced several years ago, it got custody of anything spicier than my own fairly mild chili, Emily's sesame noodles, and that plastic Velveeta-Ro-Tel dip that I probably shouldn't admit to liking. I'm allowed very occasional visitation rights, but only at my own risk. I like a gentle back-of-the-throat heat to things, but I'm never going to meet you for all-you-can-eat buffalo wings. Mayonnaise squicks me out, except as an ingredient in other things. Avocado's bland oiliness, okra's slickery slime, and don't even get me started on runny eggs. I know. It's mortifying.

Wonder Woman: strength of character, compassion, Steve

That's the funny thing about trust. If you have to ask for it, it's already gone.

Lexi stepped from the darkness. She wore a skin-tight black leather jacket, black leather pants that might have been painted on, and black leather boots. Strapped around her waist and thigh was a bright yellow utility belt. But it was the signature mask, cape, and emblem on her chest that gave it away. “Batgirl...” Cate whispered.

A hero is not measured by what her powers may be... but by the courage she shows in living, and the warmth she holds in her heart

There's gotta be kindness after pain. Forgiveness.

After trauma, any way that a person can find to pick themselves up and become a new and better version of themselves makes them stronger.

Remember that the brightest star in heaven was the devil before he fell.

Anyway, you get the idea. Bad people tend to make bad choices. You can't put it all on them, though. There's always good ol' circumstances. Things happen. Other things don't. Then one day, you find yourself painted into a corner. Surrounded by a fresh coat of bad choices. Sure, a lot of the job is chasing down criminals and putting them behind bars. But there's also finding the people stuck in those corners and trying to help them make the right choice.

You've learned to control your pain, but you've never let go of it. When you can do that, you'll be sensei in no time. Your journey is just beginning.

I decided.

If Batgirl’s origin sounds like standard comic book fare, it was. But it was her motivations that set Batgirl apart from her sister heroines of the ’60s.

However, like Elasti-Girl and Batgirl, many of the DC’s female characters got better treatment than the heroines featured in Marvel Comics. Scanning a comic book rack in the ’60s, the covers would tell two different stories about the women starring within those pages. Wonder Woman and Supergirl starred in comic books that featured their names on the covers. These heroines were often seen performing great feats of strength like battling monsters or stopping missiles with their bare hands. Batgirl’s name might be featured prominently on a cover of Detective Comics. The Doom Patrol’s Elasti-Girl was shown in the thick of battle fighting side by side with her male compatriots. On the Marvel Comics covers, Invisible Girl, Wasp, and Marvel Girl were shown struggling in the clutches of a villain, or watching helplessly from the background as their male teammates took care of business.

Yeah, I was asleep, but it's okay. I was having my favorite dream. I have it all the time. I was dancing. I was beautiful. I was dancing.

He was cocky. It would have been easy not to like him. But he was also kind, and that excused much. Kind, and...a little bit sad, somehow. I didn't understand that about him back then. But we were just kids.