Bruce Wayne Quotes

I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss. I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy. I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

Bruce Wayne's parents get killed and he goes to Tibet or whatever, and Superman is an alien, and Spiderman had that radioactive spider. Me? I kissed a janitor in the school bathroom.

Bruce Wayne/Batman: A hero can be anyone, even a man doing something as simple and reassuring as putting a coat on a young boy's shoulders to let him know that the world hadn't ended.

There are two types of people on planet Earth, Batman and Iron Man. Batman has a secret identity, right? So Bruce Wayne has to walk around every second of every day knowing that if somebody finds out his secret, his family is dead, his friends are dead, everyone he loves gets tortured to death by costumed supervillains. And he has to live with the weight of that secret every day. But not Tony Stark, he's open about who he is. He tells the world he's Iron Man, he doesn't give a shit. He doesn't have that shadow hanging over him, he doesn't have to spend energy building up those walls of lies around himself. You're one or the other - either you're one of those people who has to hide your real self because it would ruin you if it came out, because of your secret fetishes or addictions or crimes, or you're not one of those people. And the two groups aren't even living in the same universe.

Be he the first to stand or the last, a man must stand," the father had told his adoring son. "And if there is only one man, then that man must stand alone." ~Thomas to Bruce Wayne

People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy, and I can't do that as Bruce Wayne. As a man, I'm flesh and blood. I can be ignored. I can be destroyed. But as a symbol, as a symbol I can be incorruptible, I can be everlasting.

He's clearly a man with a mission, but it's not one of vengeance. Bruce is not after personal revenge ... He's much bigger than that; he's much more noble than that. He wants the world to be a better place, where a young Bruce Wayne would not be a victim ... In a way, he's out to make himself unnecessary. Batman is a hero who wishes he didn't have to exist.

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.

All superheroes have origin stories, like how Bruce Wayne’s parents get killed and he goes to Tibet or whatever, and Superman is an alien, and Spiderman had that radioactive spider. Me? I kissed a janitor in the school bathroom

He does not provide solace from pain. He cannot give you hope for the eternal. He cannot comfort you for the love you lost. God blesses your soul with grace. Batman punches people in the face. - Bruce Wayne

One man"s tool is another man's weapon. - Bruce Wayne

He can survive anywhere. Anytime. Surviving is what he does.

Sorry? You expect to destroy my world, then shake hands? - Bruce Wayne

You want them to give Batman counselling sessions?" "It's genius. Just make Bruce Wayne get over his shit, then, presto, no more Batman. The baddies win by default.

There's something in there," Matt said. "Something alive. It punched me." "Punched you?" Baldwin's face screwed up. "Are you sure a bat didn't fly into you? I bet there are a few in there." Matt rubbed his tender jaw. "Unless its name is Bruce Wayne, that wasn't a bat.

Jim Gordon: I never cared who you were... Batman: And you were right. Jim Gordon: ...but shouldn't the people know the hero who saved them? Batman: A hero can be anyone. Even a man doing something as simple and reassuring as putting a coat around a young boy's shoulders to let him know that the world hadn't ended. Jim Gordon: Bruce Wayne?

«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»

It is not who you are underneath but it is what underwear you wear and what you do that defines you

[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.

I've always felt Lex Luthor is intensely threatened by any status or distinction he can’t buy, hence the antipathy to Superman's powers and Bruce Wayne's status as old money. Money is Luthor's superpower, and anything he can’t obtain or control with it is his kryptonite. Unlike Superman, he takes a proactive view of his kryptonite. It shouldn’t exist and he’ll do all he can to eradicate it wherever he finds it.

You can fail as Bruce Wayne,” he said. “As Batman, you can’t afford to.” “Is that what you’re afraid of?” Bruce asked indignantly. “That if I go back out there, I’ll fail?” “No,” Alfred said. “I’m afraid you want to.

Bruce Wayne: I know. You keep thinking, If only I had done something differently. If only I could have...warned them. But there isn't anything you could have done. There isn't anything either of us could have done. Dick Grayson: Your mom and dad? Does the hurt ever go away? Bruce Wayne: I wish I could say yes. But it will get better in time. For you. That I promise.

Batwoman: "What was it like growing up with him?" Nightwing: "When I was a kid, I idolized him. Hell... I wanted to be him. But the older I got, the more I realized that I didn't know him at all. How could I? Bruce Wayne is as much a mask as Batman. And I think the only thing behind those masks is pain. A pain he refuses to share with anyone." Batwoman: "So what was it like?" Nightwing: "Lonely.

I Wear A Mask. And That Mask, It’s Not To Hide Who I Am, But To Create What I Am.

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

I always had trouble with the Bruce Wayne in the comic book," Burton said. "I mean, if this guy is so handsome, so rich, and so strong, why the fuck is he putting on a Batsuit?

But, as Bruce Wayne will attest...you have to spend money to make money.

Bruce Wayne Carmody wanted to love and enjoy his parents, and occasionally he did. But they made it hard.

Amanda Waller: And for all that fierce exterior, I've never met anyone who cared as deeply about his fellow man as Bruce Wayne...

Alfred, when it happened with Mother and Father, how did you help me? Master Bruce, with all due respect, each night you leave this perfectly lovely house and go leaping off buildings dressed as a giant bat. Do you really think I helped you?

When a person cannot see his own darkness, he is not free. He was only free, if he could escape from the shadows that shaded him. This is like the story of little Bruce Wayne who fell into a well and as an adult transformed into the figure of Batman.

Oh—and make sure you print," I [Bruce Wayne] added. "If I recall, your handwriting's atrocious." He took a coaster from the table and scribbled a few notes on the back. Roman Sionis: "The ladies don't complain when I give them my number." Bruce Wayne: "Oh? They're old enough to read?

In my sleep, Clark Kent arrives on the planet alone and falls into endless wealth, and across the country, a young Bruce Wayne is adopted by sweet, midwestern parents. There is no Batman, but there is still a Superman, a deadened Übermensch who imposes his idea of purity onto the earth.

Bruce Wayne’s childhood experience of losing his parents during a random back-alley mugging remains the primary origin story for the Batman character, but other than irrationally (or, more accurately: insanely) motivating his desire to fight crime, the trauma seems to have had little discernable effect on his character.

So while the world thinks of you as a real-life Bruce Wayne with hundreds of millions in the bank and models draped across your arm, you’re really Batman, aligned with the Resistance, and you kidnapped me for your own good?” “Exactly,” he said. “Isn’t that what an assassin would say in such circumstances?” She batted her eyelashes.

Dick. I didn't fall. I jumped. I jumped because I knew you'd catch me.

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.

Superheroes are just American myth. They haven’t been passed down long enough to take spiritual form, but if they last another few centuries, I reckon I’ll be playing mahjong with Bruce Wayne on the same ethereal table as George Washington.” “What?” Zack shot to a new level of disbelief. “But superheroes aren’t actually worshiped as real.” “Then what’s Comic-Con, huh?

and we are one one being in an infinite ocean filled with starfish and galaxies and black holed sunfish frolics somewhere near encinitas beside the swami waves (you know - the one's who teach inside the hurricane's eye!)

One thing Batman taught me. Don't fight when a nice "Later, dork" will do. Sigh. But then again, Batman has fought every friend and ally at least once...his and Superman's fights are their versions of getting a beer and talking about sports.

I've know Bruce Wayne for over 50 years, and Ive kept an eye on you your whole life. You're not Bruce's clone, you're his son. There are similarities, mind you, but more than a few differences too. You don't quite have his magnificent brain, for instance. You do have his heart, though. And for all that fierce exterior, I've never met anyone who cared as deeply about his fellow man as Bruce Wayne, except maybe you. You want to have a little better life than the old man's? Take care of the people who love you. Or don't. It's your choice.

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.

Let’s say, Bruce Wayne, that you are a person living in a black-and-white world. You know that, somewhere, colour must exist. So you read every book about colour that you can find. You research it day and night until you can recite the wavelengths of blue and red and yellow light, that a blade of grass must logically be green, that when you look at the sky, it is logically blue. You can tell me everything there is to know about colour, even though you’ve never seen it yourself. And then, one day, you see colour. Would you know it? would you even recognise it? can you truly comprehend anything about something, or someone… unless you experience it for yourself?

Mas, apesar desta ênfase extremada no combate ao crime, a lição que [os livros de quadradinhos] davam às crianças - ou a esta criança, pelo menos - era a talvez involuntária verdade radical de que a excepcionalidade é o maior e mais heróico dos valores; que aqueles que eram diferentes da multidão deviam ser os mais amorosamente acarinhados; e que esta excepcionalidade era um tesouro tão grande e tão facilmente incompreendido que tinha de ser escondido, na vida normal, por detrás daquilo a que nos quadradinhos se chamava de "identidade secreta". O Super-Homem não teria sobrevivido sem o "irrelevante" Clark Kent; o "milionário do jet-set Bruce Wayne tornou possíveis as actividades nocturnas de Batman.

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?

Bruce Wayne Carmody had been unhappy for so long that it had stopped being a state he paid attention to. Sometimes Wayne felt that the world had been sliding apart beneath his feet for years. He was still waiting for it to pull him down, to bury him at last. His mother had been crazy for a while, had believed that the phone was ringing when it wasn’t, had conversations with dead children who weren’t there. Sometimes he felt she had talked more with dead children than she ever had with him. She had burned down their house. She spent a month in a psychiatric hospital, skipped out on a court appearance, and dropped out of Wayne’s life for almost two years. She spent a while on book tour, visiting bookstores in the morning and local bars at night. She hung out in L.A. for six months, working on a cartoon version of Search Engine that never got off the ground and a cocaine habit that did. She spent a while drawing covered bridges for a gallery show that no one went to. Wayne’s father got sick of Vic’s drinking, Vic’s wandering, and Vic’s crazy, and he took up with the lady who had done most of his tattoos, a girl named Carol who had big hair and dressed like it was still the eighties. Only Carol had another boyfriend, and they stole Lou’s identity and ran off to California, where they racked up a ten-thousand-dollar debt in Lou’s name. Lou was still dealing with creditors. Bruce Wayne Carmody wanted to love and enjoy his parents, and occasionally he did. But they made it hard. Which was why the papers in his back pocket felt like nitroglycerin, a bomb that hadn’t exploded yet.

In the rearview mirror, they saw the young officer stumble out of the precinct just in time to see them speed away. "A little slower on the turns, Alfred," Bruce managed to say as they screeched around a corner and bolted into a freeway tunnel. Alfred chuckled. He still had his hospital band wrapped around his wrist. "WayneTech cars aren't made for slow turns, Master Wayne." "And you wonder where I get it from." Bruce felt as if his stomach could touch his spine. Even in his Aston Martin, he'd never been able to drive the way Alfred was now. "I used to be in the Royal Air Force, Master Wayne," Alfred answered in a dry tone. "At least I have an excuse. Just because one can doesn't mean one should. I expect you not to use this against me the next time you go for a joyride." "I'll try not to," Bruce managed to reply as he clutched the edges of his seat. In the back seat, Harvey looked green.

How was it today?" Alfred asked. Bruce cast his guardian a dry look through the rearview mirror. "Had the best time," he replied. "I highly recommend it." Alfred frowned at him. "Where do you inherit all this sarcasm from, Master Wayne?" "I don't know." Bruce learned forward and hung an arm over the side of Alfred's seat. "Maybe it's from you." "Me? Sarcastic?" Alfred sniffed, the barest hint of a smile appearing on his lips. "It's as if you think I'm British." Despite the long day, Bruce couldn't help but grin at the retort.

He’s not a superhero, he’s a vigilante. He’s just a rich bloke with cool toys. If Bane (he’s the pork chop with all the pipes coming out of his dust mask) can break Batman’s back, then what chance would he have against Superman? I mean, Batman versus Superman! What the hell is that all about? Bruce Wayne in a bat suit is no different to you or I, we would break a hand in multiple places if we punched Superman. Spiderman is a superhero and – as I’ve already said – my favourite of them all, but facts are facts. Spidey wouldn’t even get to quip, ‘Hey, over here red pants!’ before he was melted into red and blue jelly.  No. If you are Superman, then you are invincible and completely awesome. You can fucking fly. You get to shoot lasers out of your eyes, and see through shit. And you know the best part? The bit that most people don’t even think about? Just because you’re Superman doesn’t mean you have to dress like him.  If I were Superman, I would wear the Spiderman outfit by day (pretending to spin webs and climb walls etc.) and then switch to Batman at night (fighting crime, being cool and laughing – high pitched to piss the bad guys off, not like Christian Bale – while bullets bounced off me). Plus, who the hell would ever think about using Kryptonite on those two? No one.

I’ll give you a ten-thousand-dollar bonus if you can get them to stop calling me the ‘Boy Billionaire.’ It makes me feel like Bruce Wayne without the Batmobile. And I did just turn thirty-two. I hardly qualify as a ‘Boy’ anything.

Barry Allen: What are your superpowers again? Bruce Wayne: I'm rich.

[the Kent farm was repossessed, but Clark gets it back] Clark Kent: How did you get the house from the bank? Bruce Wayne: I bought the bank. All of it.

There's something in there," Matt said. "Something alive. It punched me." "Punched you?" Baldwin's face screwed up. "Are you sure a bat didn't fly at you? I bet there are a few in there." Matt rubbed his tender jaw. "Unless its name is Bruce Wayne, that wasn't a bat.

Now the tires screeched in protest as Bruce hit another sharp turn. "I heard that," said Alfred Pennyworth from the car's live video touch screen. He gave Bruce a withering look. "A bit slower on the turns, Master Wayne." "Aston Martins weren't made for slow turns, Alfred." "They weren't made to be wrecked, either." Bruce smiled sidelong at his guardian. The setting sun glinted off his aviator glasses as he turned the car back in the direction of Gotham City's skyscrapers. "No faith in me at all, Alfred," he said lightly. "You're the one who taught me how to drive in the first place." "And did I teach you to drive like a demon possessed?" "A demon possessed with skills, Bruce clarified. He spun the steering wheel in a smooth motion.

Bruce watched his friend go. Then he glanced at Alfred. "We need to make a pit stop." "Where?" "WayneTech." Alfred shot him a wary glance. "Lucius would warn you none of those prototypes are ready for use." "Says the man driving this car. Lucius is currently being held at gunpoint at the concert hall," Bruce replied. "I think he'll forgive us." "Not if you don't make it out there alive." "Come on, Alfred." Bruce cast his guardian a fleeting smile. "What's the point of being a billionaire if I can't have a little fun?" At the withering look on Alfred's face, he added, "I have to do this. I will do it with or without your help. But with your help, I'll have a better chance." Alfred shook his head. "I first realized you'd be a handful when you accidentally set that old garden toolshed on fire with a blowtorch," he replied. "Do you remember that? You were thirteen. Five years later, here we are, aiding and abetting you as a fugitive." His voice lowered. "My job is to keep you safe, Master Wayne. But if that means making sure you don't try something absurd behind my back, then so be it.

Here is one of life’s little shortcuts: If someone is meeting you in their “study,” they have money. Normal people have a home office or a family room or maybe a man cave. Rich people have studies. This one was particularly opulent, loaded up with leather-bound books and wooden globes and Oriental rugs. It looked like someplace Bruce Wayne would hang out before heading down to the Batcave. Larry

Perhaps the suspicions stemmed from the distinct lack of women in Batman’s world. True, he crafted his Bruce Wayne alter ego to be an idle playboy, which meant there were a lot of beautiful women in his life. But, the most important female figure in his world seemed only to be his sainted, slain mother, to whose memory, along with that of his late father, Bruce swore to uphold justice and thwart evil. Bruce and Batman might have had romances with girls like debutante Julie Madison or reporter Vicki Vale, but showed neither any true affection. The one female who generated the most heat with Batman was the seductive, whip-wielding jewel thief Catwoman. Of course, since she was on the wrong side of the law, any chance of a romance with Batman was immediately crushed. (...) Batman’s sexy foe Catwoman was deemed too racy for the new world of the Comics Code. She was gone by 1954.

Kurzweilians and Russellians alike promulgate a technocentric view of the world that both simplifies views of people—in particular, with deflationary views of intelligence as computation—and expands views of technology, by promoting futurism about AI as science and not myth.    Focusing on bat suits instead of Bruce Wayne has gotten us into a lot of trouble. We see unlimited possibilities for machines, but a restricted horizon for ourselves. In fact, the future intelligence of machines is a scientific question, not a mythological one. If AI keeps following the same pattern of overperforming in the fake world of games or ad placement, we might end up, at the limit, with fantastically intrusive and dangerous idiot savants.

sleeping under the vast milky way blanket we'd awaken after midnight and down’ d shoot stars like a fingernail scraping a jack frost window a moment of eternity and awe

beach glass combing is like writing a song searching for forgotten pieces of beauty discovering unexpected insights paying homage to lost pieces of me lost pieces of truth remnants of boyhood fragments of joy

Some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.

we were a generation of sidekicks with no heroes to guide us—where did they go? so many were killed, murdered, lost to the virus. others were disillusioned, brokenhearted, burned out of the fight. some sold out and went corporate. others fought on, but our numbers were legion, and theirs were too few to get to us all. so we fought by ourselves. sidekicking our way toward the shining light of the Hero Headquarters satellite in the stars. so many of us never made it. we were just kids. what did we know of justice? what happens to a teenager whose identity is grown around a battle for something greater? dear Dick Grayson, what would you have been if you never met Bruce Wayne? would it have been better or worse? i still can’t decide. thirty years of the struggle and i’m still that kid, scanning the skyline for someone to swoop down and teach me to fly. and yet another part of me knows i’m too old for that kid stuff now. i fly on my own just fine.

Bruce Lee never bothered with soliloquies. He just went in and showed them who was boss.

I immediately thought of the stars. Stars. Heavenly bodies formed by huge clouds of dust and gas bumping into one another, getting bigger, their gravity getting stronger. Once hot enough, nuclear fusion occurs. And then a star is formed. People are shaped in a similar way—just like stars—excessive amounts of dust and hot gas. And like stars, everyone’s life has a turning point prior to their big bang. The shit show before the creation. Y ’know, one of those moments that can fuck you up. Cleopatra’s was when her father named her joint regent at fourteen. Fucked-up. Bruce Wayne’s when he witnessed his parents get murdered. Fucked-up. Charles Manson’s when his mother sold him for a pitcher of beer. Fucked. Up. Not to mention 'Helter Skelter.

Mr. Wayne is an owner of The Sheffield, Blue,” Tiffa said simply. I tried not to quake. Tiffa turned back to Mr. Wayne. I wondered briefly if his first name was Bruce. He looked like he could have a Batmobile stashed on the roof.

my foundation has already issued a statement in support of … books

our sins against God are far greater than anyone’s sins against us.

Everything's impossible until somebody does it.

Blind Prisoner: 'You do not fear death. You think this makes you strong. It makes you weak.' Bruce Wayne: 'Why?' Blind Prisoner: 'How can you move faster than possible, fight longer than possible, without the most powerful impulse of the spirit: the fear of death.' Bruce Wayne: 'I do fear death. I fear dying in here, while my city burns, and there's no one there to save it.' Blind Prisoner: 'Then make the climb.' Bruce Wayne: 'How?' Blind Prisoner: 'As the child did: without the rope. Then fear will find you again.

Blind Prisoner: 'You do not fear death. You think this makes you strong. It makes you weak.' Bruce Wayne: 'Why?' Blind Prisoner: 'How can you move faster than possible, fight longer than possible, without the most powerful impulse of the spirit: the fear of death?' Bruce Wayne: 'I do fear death. I fear dying in here, while my city burns, and there's no one there to save it.' Blind Prisoner: 'Then make the climb.' Bruce Wayne: 'How?' Blind Prisoner: 'As the child did—without the rope. Then fear will find you again.

Oh, Spitfire, I can do things that would make Bruce Wayne look like Peter Griffin.

Blind Prisoner: 'You do not fear death. You think this makes you strong. It makes you weak.' Bruce Wayne: 'Why?' Blind Prisoner: 'How can you move faster than possible, fight longer than possible, without the most powerful impulse of the spirit: the fear of death.' Bruce Wayne: 'I do fear death. I fear dying in here, while my city burns, and there's no one there to save it.' Blind Prisoner: 'Then make the climb.' Bruce Wayne: 'How?' Blind Prisoner: 'As the child did—without the rope. Then fear will find you again.

DASH: Hey, baby. Is it too early to start talking about baby names? Because I think Wolverine would be a really cool name for a boy. DASH: Or Wayne. After Bruce Wayne. But not Bruce because I knew a guy in high school named Bruce and he was a dick. CHARLIE: Are you texting me about names for our child while reading a comic book on the toilet? DASH: Uhhh…no?

If you think about it, Bruce Wayne’s only superpower was tremendous wealth.

Bruce can never quite reconcile himself to the fact that all the best and worst parts of his life are so hopelessly tangled together that they’re functionally inseparable. He can never have the good without the bad.

I once tweeted something silly in a state of anxiety. “Anxiety is my superpower,” I said. I didn’t mean anxiety was a good thing. I meant that anxiety was ridiculously intense, that we people who have an excess of it walk through life like an anxious Clark Kent or a tormented Bruce Wayne knowing the secret of who we are. And that it can be a burden of racing uncontrollable thoughts and despair but one, just occasionally, that we can convince ourselves has a silver lining.

I once tweeted something silly in a state of anxiety. “Anxiety is my superpower,” I said. I didn’t mean anxiety was a good thing. I meant that anxiety was ridiculously intense, that we people who have an excess of it walk through life like an anxious Clark Kent or a tormented Bruce Wayne knowing the secret of who we are. And that it can be a burden of racing uncontrollable thoughts and despair but one, just occasionally, that we can convince ourselves has a silver lining. For instance, personally I am thankful that it forced me to stop smoking, to get physically healthy, that it made me work out what was good for me, and who cared for me and who didn’t. I am thankful that it led me to trying to help some other people who experience it, and I am thankful that it led me—during good patches—to feel life more intensely.

You want to beat up on a kid, go enlist in the G.C.P.D. like every other bully in this city.

Sometimes you just have to give people a chance, Jason. They'll usually surprise you.

Strange's sessions. What he saw in Batman...the grief...the fear...the manipulation...and ego. The final monster. He said it again and again. Strange's take--his lens on Batman. In his mind, the biggest fault behind Batman is ego. And the ego that drives him would come from a child. But Strange got it wrong. He read the book, but he didn't understand. All the monstrous faults he saw in Batman--they're not faults. They're fuel.

So fight, Harvey. Because maybe Two-Face is right. Maybe he IS stronger. Maybe we're ALL uglier inside than I want to admit. Maybe it's our natural state. But if that's true...we just have to fight harder. I was wrong to try to win that fight for you. Because the hard truth is that there is no winning it. Not for you or me, or anyone, ever. That's what your trip showed me. All I can do is tell you that when I look at you, I still see someone I believe in, and as long as you fight, I will fight beside you. Always.

You are who he made. Fine. And I'm whatever the horrors of my life made me. Fine. All our sins, our earned tragedies, all of it. All that damn pain. It's all here with us. It is us. And I'm sure it's all meaningful or hilarious or philosophical or deep or something or everything. We could spend our whole lives mired in the complexities. But really, compared to us--compared to you and me--what we have, or could have...all that pain we have...honestly Who cares?

You can't hide forever, Bruce! That's what Waynes always try to do, but it's no use. So go on, little Bruce, and... Open up? Get the hell out of my house.

In una vita dove tutti vogliono essere grandi e degni di nota non c’è spazio per chi trova gioia a essere il bambino seduto sull’erba che vede Superman sfrecciare nel cielo. Perché è poco, è miserabile, non dovrei volerlo. Lo faccio per fare quello strano, per attirare attenzione. Così ho imbracciato le mie paure e mi ci sono ammantato, ho percorso i vicoli della mia coscienza per scovare una sola traccia di quel malvivente che fa diventare Bruce Wayne Batman, ma ho trovato solo graffiti di sensi di colpa e spazzatura composta dai pezzi di me abbandonati lungo il percorso. C’è chi non è nato per essere un eroe o un cattivo, che non vuole rientrare sotto etichette di nessun genere. Ma poi se non sanno come chiamarti finirà che, alla peggio, avranno paura di te e, alla meglio, rientrerai in quella zona grigia di persone con il patentino della compassione. Che possono fare quello che vogliono perché mica contano qualcosa.

I think of Dick, Tim… Jason… Damian. Legacy. My sons. Can’t move, body’s giving out. This is a good death, isn’t it? In this place. With all these memories.

You were supposed to leave tonight,” I remind her when we get through the door. Sam’s already here, and I lock the deadbolt behindus. “I’ll stay tonight,” she mumbles, eyelids heavy. “Do you need to call about your flight?” “No. I never scheduled a return flight. I was going to today. The driver…no, the flyer…the…the…” “Pilot.” “Yeah. That guy. He was going to pick me up whenever I was ready.” She scrunches up her nose. “I sound like a rich asshole, don’tI?” “You’re basically Bruce Wayne when he’s trying to convince the world he’s still a billionaire playboy and not a superhero.” “Damn,” she says, not missing a beat. “Hopefully I’m giving more of a Christian Bale performance over Ben Affleck.” “It’s Oscar-worthy.

Having seen his parents gunned down before his eyes, wee Bruce Wayne makes the following vow by candlelight: “And I swear by the spirits of my parents to avenge their deaths by spending the rest of my life warring on all criminals.” This oath is ridiculous on its face, so laughably grandiose and melodramatic that only a kid could make it. Which is exactly its power. That oath is a choice. An act of will. A deliberate reaction to a shattering injustice. More crucially, it is an act of self-rescue. It’s these twenty-four words, after all, that give his life purpose and launch him into an existence entirely devoted to protecting others from the fate that befell him. This is why, for all the character’s vaunted darkness, he is now and has always been a creature not of rage but of hope. He believes himself to be an agent of change; he is the living embodiment of the simple, implacably optimistic notion Never again.

He smells like what I always imagine Bruce Wayne must smell like - a lot of money and a big, bad secret.