Batman And Robin Quotes

I'm the goddamn Batman.

It's just another of Robin's sayings. Like, 'Holy strawberries, Batman, we're in a jam! Or, Holy Kleenex, Batman, it was right under our nose and we blew it!

Ryodan says softly, “Holy strawberries, Dani, we’re in a jam.” I look at him like he’s sprouted two heads. Holy strawberries? In a jam? Even Barrons looks stumped. He continues, “But don’t worry. Holy priceless collection of Etruscan snoods—you really butchered that one, by the way—I’ve got it in the bag. How about this one: holy borrowing bibliophile, let’s book.

Show some respect. They were your grandparents. -Batman Just names and dusty frames on the wall to me. -Damien I take exception to that. There is not a speck of dust collecting on those portraits. -Alfred

I smack myself in the forehead. “Holy priceless collection of Etruscan snoods, they’re not moving!” I exclaim. There’s a choking noise over my head somewhere. “Etruscan snoods?” I glow quietly inside. Some accomplishments mean more than others. I am officially the Shit. Now and forever. “Dude, watch your question marks. I just pried one out of you.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Admit it, you lost your eternal fecking composure.” “You have an obsession with a delusion about how I end my sentences. What the fuck are Etruscan snoods?” “Dunno. It’s just another of Robin’s sayings. Like, ‘Holy strawberries, Batman, we’re in a jam!’ ” “Strawberries.” “Or, ‘Holy Kleenex, Batman, it was right under our nose and we blew it!’

So I guess this makes me your sidekick, right?” he asked. “Like I could be…” “Robin?” He scowled. “I ain’t no Robin.” “What’s wrong with Robin?” “What’s wrong?” Ray rolled his eyes. “Two words: green Speedo. And he was lame. Batman was always having to save his ass.” I didn’t say anything.

I wonder if Batman would save Robin over his girlfriend of the week. (The Dark Knight gets around, man.)

So why don't we have a go? There are two of us.' Little Mike realized that his friend was actually serious. 'Two of us? Father Hillary had God Almighty helping out, and look where it got him.' 'I know. But we're a team. For years, since primary. Batman and Robin.' 'Robin got killed,' said Mike. Christy was shocked. 'He did not, did he? Jesus, I didn't hear about that.' 'Yeah. It was a big shock. The Joker kilt him.' 'That fuckin' Joker. I didn't see that coming.' ("Taking on PJ")

But diet and exercise are not fifty-fifty partners like macaroni and cheese. Diet is Batman and exercise is Robin. Diet does 95 per cent of the work and deserves all the attention; so, logically, it would be sensible to focus on diet. Exercise is still healthy and important—just not equally important. It has many benefits, but weight loss is not among them. Exercise is like brushing your teeth. It is good for you and should be done every day. Just don’t expect to lose weight.

I showed up like his sidekick, and if Batman and Robin had followed us in, I doubt anyone would have noticed. We were that cool. Honest.

There were no more heroes. Kennedy was dead, shot by an assassin in Dallas. Batman and Robin were dead... Superman was missing...

When we're strong enough," said Sam, "will you come with me?" "Where? To Bucko Palace?" "Yes. To find Ella." "Course I will," said the Kid, and he put an arm around Sam. "It'll be a new grand adventure of the old school. They'll write books about us. Long books. Nothing's gonna split us up, small fry. We're a team. Like Batman and Robin Hood." And he sang. "Ner-ner-ner-ner-ner-ner-ner-ner-Batman!

After Jesus showed up, the Old Testament basically became a way for Bible publishers to keep their word count up. Of course, just because Jesus replaces the Old Testament doesn't mean that you should necessarily skip it. That would be like skipping Batman and Robin just because the story starts over in Batman Begins. The important thing to realize is that both the old and new stories are about an all-powerful being trying to rid the world of evildoers, only in the new one The Batman can eat pork.

We mourn lives lost. Including our own.

All superheroes had pretty much the same problem. Batman was flash and sexy compared to Bruce Wayne and even Robin was a lot cooler than Dick Grayson. As for Superman, well. It was a fucking miracle that Clark Kent had never committed suicide.

«I realize there are a lot of things I haven't shared with you.» «That's because you don't trust me, father.» «I didn't trust you, Damian, do you really think you'd be standing here--my life's most safeguarded secrets accessible?» «Sometimes I think your secrets have secrets»

Diet is Batman and exercise is Robin. Diet does 95 percent of the work and deserves all the attention; so, logically, it would be sensible to focus on diet. Exercise is still healthy and important—just not equally important. It has many benefits, but weight loss is not among them.

We all look for meaning behind the tragedies that befall us. And sometimes the meaning is there. But sometimes, Master Bruce, terrible things just happen. No sinister plots. No secret societies. They just happen.

What, are you dense? Are you retarded or something? Who the hell do you think I am? I'm the Goddamn Batman.

[At his parents' graves] I've brought a young man -- a boy, actually -- to stay at the house. He's … lost his parents at roughly the same age that I … That I lost you. I don't know what will happen. I don't see myself as any sort of father figure. But … I think I can make a difference in his life.

And if there's one thing I've always been sure of, it's that Batman will need a Robin, and Robin will need a Batman.

Val and Ruth had been friends forever, for so long that Val was used to being the overshadowed one, the "normal" one, the one who set up the witty one-liners, not the one who delivered them. She liked that role; it made her feel safe. Robin to Ruth's Batman. Chewbaca to her Han Solo.

He is a symbol. He is a legend. He is immortal. He is incorruptible. He is Batman. I am not him. When I die, he will live. Batman has no secret identity. He has no other. He is no one. He has only hosts--mere mortal men who don this suit, this symbol, to continue his crusade. He isn't a hero. He is a cure, a cure to the virus of the human condition. He is exactly like his enemies, and yet strikingly different. He is just as swift, strong, and smart as them, just as brutal, but in the other direction. He will never kill, and he will never die. He has no name. He is Batman.

—Primero de todo, estás loco. Soy mucho más caliente que tú. Y segundo, estoy siendo serio, hombre. Somos como, Batman y Robin. Scooby y Shaggy. En realidad, ninguno de esos dúos tiene nada que hacer con nosotros. Somos Sebastian y Jaden. ¿A quién voy a conseguir para que me ayude a ver a las chicas? Quiero decir, ¿quién más podría lograr ese baile de “I’m Sexy and I Know it”, sino nosotros?

Age is a scalpel, cutting out bits of what we are. Second after second. Day after day. Year after year

the sales compensation plan is Batman, the sales contest is Robin.

You’re not doing a good job of selling me this dumb fantasy. I’m not climbing into the back of your van if I have to be Robin. I’m Batman. That’s how these things work.

I ain’t nobody’s sidekick. I AM Batman And Robin, minus the mask, plus the vagina.

Let's roll out, Batman." "I'm Batman and you're Robin?" "Don't make me laugh. I'm Spider-Man." "Then we live in different universes. I'm DC and you're Marvel." Duncan rolled his eyes. "Can't we all get along? And since when are there different universes?

You weren't the perfect father but that's okay because -- probably nobody's a perfect father. No family's perfect, either. I was lucky. I was privileged. Not because of the big house and the money, but because you gave me a lot of yourself. You taught me, you showed me, you encouraged me -- you never lied to me and you never demanded that I be anything I’m not. I didn’t imitate you because you insisted that I do so, but because I wanted to. Of all the men I knew, you were most worthy of imitation. Then I blamed you for letting me be who I was. Pretty dumb. You and Alfred gave me a home and you gave me what we don't mention. The L word. You were the best family I could have had. Thanks.

Dude. I go all soft and melty inside and swallow a dreamy sigh. Robin to his Batman! Superhero partners. There are lots of versions where Robin gets way stronger. He could have had me at hello if he’d said that first. “You don’t want me to work for you. You want a superhero partner. That’s a whole different story. Why didn’t you just say so?

Batman: You can't build a better world by killing criminals--it bankrupts your soul and society's by reinforcing the same cycle of violence.

I couldn’t handle the sudden rush of emotions. You couldn’t handle any emotions. We made quite the pair.

Father forgive me for I have sinned. -Damian

We’re like the dynamic duo, bro. We’re like Batman and Robin, but we’re both Batman.

What do you get if a huge hairy monster steps on Batman and Robin? A: Flatman and Ribbon!

was playing with friends: Batman and Robin team up with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock against the Joker and Penguin plus henchmen.

She would have picked me over you regardless if it came to that,” Frank continued, “so the result would have been the same in the end, but still. Given that I am basically Batman in this situation, I consider you my—” “Really?” I said. “I’m Robin, huh?” “…Well, this is awkward,” Frank said. “I was gonna say Alfred.

A change in direction was required. The story you finished was perhaps never the one you began. Yes! He would take charge of his life anew, binding his breaking selves together. Those changes in himself that he sought, he himself would initiate and make them. No more of this miasmic, absent drift. How had he ever persuaded himself that his money-mad burg would rescue him all by itself, this Gotham in which Jokers and Penguins were running riot with no Batman (or even Robin) to frustrate their schemes, this Metropolis built of Kryptonite in which no Superman dared set foot, where wealth was mistaken for riches and the joy of possession for happiness, where people lived such polished lives that the great rough truths of raw existence had been rubbed and buffed away, and in which human souls had wandered so separately for so long that they barely remembered how to touch; this city whose fabled electricity powered the electric fences that were being erected between men and men, and men and women, too? Rome did not fall because her armies weakened but because Romans forgot what being Roman meant. Might this new Rome actually be more provincial than its provinces; might these new Romans have forgotten what and how to value, or had they never known? Were all empires so undeserving, or was this one particularly crass? Was nobody in all this bustling endeavor and material plenitude engaged, any longer, on the deep quarry-work of the mind and heart? O Dream-America, was civilization's quest to end in obesity and trivia, at Roy Rogers and Planet Hollywood, in USA Today and on E!; or in million-dollar-game-show greed or fly-on-the-wall voyeurism; or in the eternal confessional booth of Ricki and Oprah and Jerry, whose guests murdered each other after the show; or in a spurt of gross-out dumb-and-dumber comedies designed for young people who sat in darkness howling their ignorance at the silver screen; or even at the unattainable tables of Jean-Georges Vongerichten and Alain Ducasse? What of the search for the hidden keys that unlock the doors of exaltation? Who demolished the City on the Hill and put in its place a row of electric chairs, those dealers in death's democracy, where everyone, the innocent, the mentally deficient, the guilty, could come to die side by side? Who paved Paradise and put up a parking lot? Who settled for George W. Gush's boredom and Al Bore's gush? Who let Charlton Heston out of his cage and then asked why children were getting shot? What, America, of the Grail? O ye Yankee Galahads, ye Hoosier Lancelots, O Parsifals of the stockyards, what of the Table Round? He felt a flood bursting in him and did not hold back. Yes, it had seduced him, America; yes, its brilliance aroused him, and its vast potency too, and he was compromised by this seduction. What he opposed in it he must also attack in himself. It made him want what it promised and eternally withheld. Everyone was an American now, or at least Americanized: Indians, Uzbeks, Japanese, Lilliputians, all. America was the world's playing field, its rule book, umpire, and ball. Even anti-Americanism was Americanism in disguise, conceding, as it did, that America was the only game in town and the matter of America the only business at hand; and so, like everyone, Malik Solanka now walked its high corridors cap in hand, a supplicant at its feast; but that did not mean he could not look it in the eye. Arthur had fallen, Excalibur was lost and dark Mordred was king. Beside him on the throne of Camelot sat the queen, his sister, the witch Morgan le Fay.

Good job, Robin,” she quipped. I glared. There is no reality, no train of thought, no plane of existence where I am not the goddamned Batman. I kept this to myself, of course. Batman doesn’t tell others he’s Batman. Everyone just knows it. And they should. I

I don't know why you decided to wear that costume, but it makes you a symbol. Just as Robin was a symbol. Or Superman, or Nightwing, or the policeman who wears his uniform. And this isn't just a symbol of the law, it's a symbol of justice. When one policeman is killed, others take his place because justice can't be stopped.

So,Batman,eh?" Effing St. Clair. I cross my arms and slouch into one of the plastic seats. I am so not in the mood for this.He takes the chair next to me and drapes a relaxed arm over the back of the empty seat on his other side. The man across from us is engrossed in his laptop,and I pretend to be engrossed in his laptop,too. Well,the back of it. St. Clair hums under his breath. When I don't respond,he sings quietly. "Jingle bells,Batman smells,Robin flew away..." "Yes,great,I get it.Ha ha. Stupid me." "What? It's just a Christmas song." He grins and continues a bit louder. "Batmobile lost a wheel,on the M1 motorway,hey!" "Wait." I frown. "What?" "What what?" "You're singing it wrong." "No,I'm not." He pauses. "How do you sing it?" I pat my coat,double-checking for my passport. Phew. Still there. "It's 'Jingle bells, Batman smells,Robin laid an egg'-" St. Clair snorts. "Laid an egg? Robin didn't lay an egg-" "'Batmobile lost a wheel,and the Joker got away.'" He stares at me for a moment,and then says with perfect conviction. "No." "Yes.I mean,seriously,what's up with the motorway thing?" "M1 motorway. Connects London to Leeds." I smirk. "Batman is American. He doesn't take the M1 motorway." "When he's on holiday he does." "Who says Batman has time to vacation?" "Why are we arguing about Batman?" He leans forward. "You're derailing us from the real topic.The fact that you, Anna Oliphant,slept in today." "Thanks." "You." He prods my leg with a finger. "Slept in." I focus on the guy's laptop again. "Yeah.You mentioned that." He flashes a crooked smile and shrugs, that full-bodied movement that turns him from English to French. "Hey, we made it,didn't we? No harm done." I yank out a book from my backpack, Your Movie Sucks, a collection of Roger Ebert's favorite reviews of bad movies. A visual cue for him to leave me alone. St. Clair takes the hint. He slumps and taps his feet on the ugly blue carpeting. I feel guilty for being so harsh. If it weren't for him,I would've missed the flight. St. Clair's fingers absentmindedly drum his stomach. His dark hair is extra messy this morning. I'm sure he didn't get up that much earlier than me,but,as usual, the bed-head is more attractive on him. With a painful twinge,I recall those other mornings together. Thanksgiving.Which we still haven't talked about.

Actually, I’d say that both of you are fucking idiots, if you want the truth,’ he began. ‘You come over here like Batman and Robin and you get yourselves involved in a murder investigation. But you don’t help anyone because you’ve got bigger fish to fry. In fact, you were obstructive. You say you made no difference to the crime scene, but that’s not true.

Ammesso che a Diabolik la tuta gliela stiri Eva Kant, a Batman il costume glielo lava Robin o lo manda in tintoria?

You’re a fine fighter. You could always be the Robin to my Batman.” That

You gotta be there. So let me kill you and get on with it. I mean, everyone gets to kill a Robin eventually. And today it’s my turn.

¿Qué estás esperando? ¿Una medalla?

Vale, cabezón y pececitos, hagamos un trato. Yo no os miraré por esa ventana tan aterradora si vosotros no me miráis mientras trabajo. ¿Hecho? Bien.

... soy Talia Al Ghul... ¡madre de Damian!

Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg. Batmobile Lost its wheel, And Joker got away.

The old moves come back. Dick always went off-book. Jason hated practicing them. But Tim… he loved it. The teamwork. We had each other’s backs.

Now hit the showers. Take your time. Come up with other reasons your a terrible person and I'll shoot those arguments down when you get back.

(Incidentally, Allen reportedly delivered one of the most damning verdicts on Batman & Robin when Schumacher, who had worked with Woody on great films like Love and Death, called him to bemoan the awful reviews. ‘They’re saying I’ve made the worst film ever,’ cried Joel, to which Allen sympathetically responded, ‘Making the worst film ever would actually be an achievement – you haven’t even done that.’ Who says critics are mean?)

Los escuderos, adláteres y secundarios, en general, cumplen una función demasiado valiosa como para ascenderlos, y si no pregúntenle a Batman por qué no manda a Robin a un internado en Suiza que tenga buenos psicólogos.

I see them now. My first thought is -- all of this for Damian? The son Batman never knew he had. Grandson to Ra's Al Ghul... and a kid no one can stand. And then I think... no... it's for Tim. For him, a thousand ninjas us just the start of what I would do.

I've been so many things, Bruce. Flying Grayson. Robin. Nightwing. Batman. Agent 37. All of them had one thing in common. They were all Dick Grayson. Helping my friends. Helping anyone who needs me. Beating the bad guys. That's who I am. Who you helped make me into.

Batman… and… Robin?” Nightwing leaped at him. His legs wrapped around the man’s torso and he spun, throwing him across the room. “It’s Nightwing, you moron,” he protested. “Nightwing and Batman. Robin was a little kid. Couldn’t have been more than four feet tall. Used

If you were casting the part of the evil scientist who would prove the Caped Crusader's deadliest nemesis, you'd likely glance at the headshot of German-born psychiatrist Dr. Fredric Wertham, with his owl-like glasses and severe Prussian features, and think, "Nah, too on-the-nose.

Tim is the best Robin, but Damian is probably more fun to write. I’d say that Tim’s role is partner to Batman while Damian’s role is that of a son who needs guidance, and the role of Robin is a way of doing that. Tim no longer needs Batman’s guidance, he’s just a damned good partner.

-¡Soy Abush! ¡Hijo de un millar de reyes de la antigüedad! ¡Heredero de los sagrados montes y valles y de las gloriosas bestias que los habitan! ¿¡Qué derecho tienes a proferir tan arrogantes exigencias!? ¿¡Quién te crees que eres, niño!? -Soy Robin. Hijo de Batman. ¡Y no te hace falta saber nada más!

-Tu "mano a mano" ha sido acertado. -¿Te refieres a mi "mano a diente"? No te mentiré, me ha sentado bien. -TT. No has hecho más que ahorrarme problemas. Llevaba un tiempo medio suelto. -¿Medio suelto? ¿Por alguna pelea? -No. -Entonces, ¿qué? Tío. No me digas que aún tienes... ¿dientes de leche? -La dentición temporal de los humanos...

I am one hundred percent confident that you will screw up, Robin. You'll jump to conclusions. You'll make mistakes. You're bound to fail spectacularly, at least once. I didn't ask you to be Robin because I wanted someone perfect. I wanted someone who can do their best. Who can learn from their mistakes. Someone who makes me a better person just by being them. So tell me...is that you, Jason?

I couldn't stand boy companions," he [Jules Feiffer] wrote in his 1965 essay " The Great Comic Book Heroes. "Robin was my own age. One need only look at him to see he could fight better, swing from a rope better, play ball better, eat better and live better...He was obviously an A student, the center of every circle, the one picked for greatness in the crowd—God, how I hate him. You can imagine how please I was when, years later, I heard he was a fag.

-Todo lo que he hecho en este año de la expiación ha terminado por dejar atrás sólo cenizas. Así que ríete cuanto quieras, chica. Ahora sé que no puedo deshacer lo que he hecho. Lo único que significa esta "R" es "ruina". -En el fondo sabes que esta "R"no es la de "ruina". Cada vez que te la pones, haces lo mismo que tus hermanos. Luchas por lo correcto y honras el legado de quien te salvó de ti mismo. Esta "R" es la de "redención". Por eso quiero que sepas que... aunque ahora mismo te sientas como si estuvieras solo, y como si hubieras perdido a tu padre y a tus hermanos... has ganado una hermana.

The Pepto?” I asked. “The Pepto,” he sighed and read the label. “Yes, the Pepto. This, yes. The candies. They’re in here. I found them, yes. I found them here. You. You were sleeping. I found these. They’re yours, yes? I want them. If I can have them. These. These Pepto. Oh… yes. If I can have them I’d be grateful, yes… I’d follow you. I’d follow you now until the day you die. From now until then, yes. I’d follow you and I would be your one true compatriot. The Don Quixote to your Sancho Panza, the Batman to your Robin, the Huckleberry Finn to your Nigger Jim. Yours. You. And… hm… yes. From then on I’d do what you ask of me. As your one true ally to do what you need. I’d be the best friend you have. Best. All I ask for, to be yours until forever, is that you bestow upon me these delightful morsels I have found of yours for my consumptive pleasure.” “Yes,” I said, not thinking twice. “Take it. Eat’em.” “Eat’em, great,” he said. “Yes. A strange name, but I like it. That’s what you will call me then. Eat’em. Thank you for this.

I know there's something about me you want. I can tell. You go all rigid when I'm around." "Let's do it. Right now. Take off the masks. No Secret." "What is your relationship to the Falcone crime organization?" "Happy Valentine's Day. Your Loss.

After Batwoman Katy Kane (she is usually “Kathy Kane,” but Robin calls her “Katy” in this issue) breaks Bruce’s heart, Robin wonders how Bruce will survive and Alfred says, “He learns. He perseveres. He begins again.” We see Batman going into Dr. Hurt’s isolation chamber in order to better understand the Joker. While we knew that Batman had undergone isolation in order to understand the Joker, the Katy Kane information gives us new context. So, rather than just an obsession with the Joker as it appeared back in Batman #673, Batman had to reinvent himself because his heart had been broken.

Harvey. Grundy. Myself. Each of us lost pieces of our lives......and hid what was left in the dark, is this what I want for myself? A world that exists only in darkness?

Diet is Batman and exercise is Robin. Diet does 95 per cent of the work and deserves all the attention; so, logically, it would be sensible to focus on diet. Exercise is still healthy and important—just not equally important. It has many benefits, but weight loss is not among them.

Despite his general inability to stay conscious or untied, Robin’s relationship with Batman wasn’t a subordinate one for long.

I dreamed I called Batman on the phone and asked, any truth in those rumors about you and Robin? "Our relationship is 100% platonic," he replied stiffly. "We sublimate. Why do you think we're always out looking for 'bad guys' that we can punish?" And the line went dead with a quick click like handcuffs closing on a thin wrist forever.

Uh… the Batman to my Robin?” I ask, suddenly realising that I have no idea what almost-eleven-year-olds watch or read or… any-fucking-thing.

Dude, you’re going to be my partner in crime, okay? The Bonnie to my Clyde. The—” “Who?” “Uh… the Batman to my Robin?” I ask, suddenly realising that I have no idea what almost-eleven-year-olds watch or read or… any-fucking-thing.  “O-okay.

Broken wings mend in time. One day Robin will fly again. I promise

And I’m going to go in there why?” I can’t see a single reason to take such a risk. I like living. I like it a lot. “Kid, Batman needs Robin.” Dude. I go all soft and melty inside and swallow a dreamy sigh. Robin to his Batman! Superhero partners. There are lots of versions where Robin gets way stronger. He could have had me at hello if he’d said that first. “You don’t want me to work for you. You want a superhero partner. That’s a whole different story. Why didn’t you just say so?

Like we changed our [radio] call signs in the middle of fucking things. Like we changed our [radio] call signs in the middle of fucking things. The Gooks some way or another got the roster of our shit. The fucking yo-yos in the back used to have all these fucking Indigenous Personnel working for them. So we were in the field and we were called, like, Robin Hood, Robin Hood One, Robin Hood Six, Broken Arrow. And they started to get our fucking call signs. And [the enemy] started talking to us on the fucking radios.... So when we went to the field, the six teams going had already talked. And we said, if this shit hits like it again, we'll all use something that we use back home. So like all of a sudden we became Batman and Robin, Snoopy and Pigpen. Y'know, "Snoopy, have you seen Pigpen?" "He's with Schroeder." Right? So we knew where everybody was. You fucking got the radio, and you're saying, "I'm in a deep fucking trouble? You people fucking serious?" Y'know? "What the fucking you doing to do? Send me to jail? Do me a fucking favor." I'm out there getting fucking murdered, and they're telling me I'm in fucking trouble.

Sorry I kept calling you Sandra; she was the last girl. What’s your real name?” “Robin.” “Robin,” he repeated. “That’ll be easy to remember.” He had some notion of making a jocular allusion to Batman and his dependable sidekick, but the feeble jest died on his lips as her face turned brilliantly pink. Too late, he realized that the most unfortunate construction could be put on his innocent words. Robin swung the swivel chair back towards the computer monitor, so that all Strike could see was an edge of a flaming cheek.