Comic Book Villain Quotes

The author would also like to acknowledge makers of comic book villains and superheroes, those who invented, or at least popularized, the notion of the normal, mild-mannered person transformed into a mutant by freak accident.

He called me an asshole and said, “I'll bury you!” like some comic book villain. I wanted to fucking scream my head off—I'm not your toy! Your puppet! Your whore! I'm a human goddamn being and I expect to be treated as such! Instead I told him I didn't want to be buried, I want to be cremated. And I want my ashes stored in a disco ball he can hang over his desk.

You let your grief make you bitter. You let your suffering make you cruel. Want to know what that makes you? A villain. That's every comic book villain ever! They suffer, and then they inflict suffering on others. Good guys do the opposite. Good guys suffer, too - but they respond by helping.

Rorschach: You know we can't let you do that Adrian Veidt: Do? Do what Rorschach? I'm not a comic book villain. Do you seriously think I would explain my master stroke to you if there were even the slightest possibility you could affect the outcome? I triggered it 35 minutes ago.

Heroes are forgettable. They try to save the world, but villains are the ones who change it.

You claim to like the mayhem, the chaos of it all, but it’s a cover. The truth is that you’d rather burn the world than face it.

My life was awful. When I was a kid, I was fat, pretty ugly and had awful hair. I used to get teased every fucking day, slammed up against lockers, punched in the face - you name it. Hell, I had to go to prom with one of my female friends because I couldn’t even get a proper date. I can’t even look back at those photos because I look so bad. I transferred schools, but the teasing just got worse. After an, let’s say, ‘incident’ I had with the school play the bullying just got worse. But I made it through high school, only to find out that real life was pretty much the same. I just stayed in my dark room all day and didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t go outside. I just stayed inside and drew. I’d draw vampires, mummies, heroes, villains. Anything to help me escape all the bad in the world. I went to art school and didn’t really belong. All I could draw was comic book characters. I tried to put my only good talent to use by drawing a cartoon and pitching it - only to have it turned down. Life to me was just pointless. I started drinking, doing drugs and just generally wasting my life drawing.
Then one day, I saw bodies falling from the sky. I witnessed people dying. And that’s when I decided to turn my life around. I called up anyone I knew who had an instrument and we formed a band. Being on tour for the first few years was bad. All we’d do is get drunk and do drugs, but I loved it. Because I was doing something I loved with people I loved. And a few years ago I met the most perfect woman ever. It’s like we share a wave-link or something. She just knows me without even knowing me, if you understand. And now, 2011, I have a beautiful baby girl, a caring wife and I get to perform for my adoring fans everyday. I am living proof that no matter how bad it gets, it gets better. I am Gerard Way, and I survived.

They Can Bury Us Deep, But We Always Grow Back." — Poison Ivy

You make it sound like we’re living in a comic book with villains and superheroes.” He slanted him and assessing look. “And sidekicks.” J.T. grinned. “When you think about it, that’s pretty much what high school is, isn’t it?

The author would also like to acknowledge the makers of comic book villains and superheroes, those who invented, or at least popularized, the notion of the normal, mild-mannered person transformed into mutant by freak accident, with the mutant thereafter driven by a strange hybrid of the most rancid bitterness and the most outrageous hope to do very, very odd and silly things, many times in the name of Good. The makers of comic books seemed to be onto something there.

you went to parties and when someone said something ridiculous, you’d look across the table, and he’d look back at you, expressionless, with just the barest hint of a raised eyebrow, and you’d have to hurriedly drink some water to keep from spewing out your mouthful of food with laughter, and then back at your apartment—your ridiculously beautiful apartment, which you both appreciated an almost embarrassing amount, for reasons you never had to explain to the other—you would recap the entire awful dinner, laughing so much that you began to equate happiness with pain. Or you got to discuss your problems every night with someone smarter and more thoughtful than you, or talk about the continued awe and discomfort you both felt, all these years later, about having money, absurd, comic-book-villain money, or drive up to his parents’ house, one of you plugging into the car’s stereo an outlandish playlist, with which you would both sing along, loudly, being extravagantly silly as adults the way you never were as children. As you got older, you realized that really, there were very few people you truly wanted to be around for more than a few days at a time, and yet here you were with someone you wanted to be around for years, even when he was at his most opaque and confusing.

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.

I magine a civilization here on earth that exists covertly inside and alongside of those we know about, with access to the most advanced technologies, technologies straight off the drawing boards of Hollywood production companies and special effects artists, a civilization with nearly bottomless sources of funding, staging events for the gullible, torturing others and driving them into mental and emotional breakdown, and waging a covert war with its own members using its own “apocalyptic technologies,” and masking that war behind the perfect plausible deniability: mother nature. This breakaway civilization, moreover, has its own ideology, and its own dubious “morality”, as was evidenced by its first real incarnation: Nazi Germany. Unlike Nazi Germany, or for that matter, civilizations in general, it has no “core area” where it is centered; it comprises not one nation, but many; its peoples are drawn from all groups and languages, for it speaks but one language, the language of power. It is, in part, the resurrection of Atlantis, and in part, like a bad nightmare version of superhero comic books, with the villains, and not the superheroes, possessing all the superhuman powers and technologies. If the idea of such a breakaway civilization sounds fanciful or even absurd, then hold on, because this book attempts to outline its components, structure, and initial postwar history.

Do you know what a hero needs more than anything else?” “Great hair? A compelling backstory? A cool name and a cape?” “A villain. And do you know what happens when a hero finds his villain?” “They live happily ever after in the pages of a comic book?” Radiating annoyance, Reynard purses his lips and exhales. I ditch the jokes and answer seriously. “War.

Yet the people yearned for superheroes, dreaming of them in films and comic books, but, like the disbelieved Cassandra, only villains were permitted to tell the truth...

You implied that the Panther was a token Negro. When we became aware of the lack of Negroes in our magazines, and decided to introduce them in our stories, don’t you think it would have looked rather foolish to suddenly have fifteen colored personalities appear and barnstorm through the books? As it is, we have T’Challa (the Panther), Joe Robertson and his son, Willie Lincoln, Sam Wilson (The Falcon), Gabe Jones, Dr. Noah Black (Centurius), and even a super-villain—The Man-Ape. In short, we think that we have approached a decent start with these characters.

You sound like a comic-book villain,” she told him, locking the magic firmly back in place. “Haven’t you ever heard that with great power comes great responsibility?” The

Here in the land of Faulkner, I walked to my clean little school, filled with only white faces until I turned nine, and learned the comic book tale of the founding of America: intrepid Columbus followed by the scrubbed-clean Pilgrims in their sturdy Mayflower, who landed at Plymouth Rock carrying God’s Word with the Purest Intentions, who shared Tom Turkey with Squanto and then Settled the West according to the Divinely Inspired law of Manifest Destiny, Christianizing the Wayward Heathen as they went. Hollywood helped me along this simpleminded path, with formulaic westerns that left no doubt about heroes and villains, or the symbolism of white versus red, white versus Black, or white versus any other color. But even in the fog of that controlled culture—in the coddling arms of Papa Walt Disney and the United Daughters of the Confederacy—I wasn’t physically blind. I lived in Mississippi, ground zero for what would soon become known as the Movement. And slowly I came to realize that the slavery I had always wondered about, the evidence of this great historic crime that people had begun to murmur about—and then speak openly, bitterly about—was all around me. All I had to do was look. Half the people in my town were Black. They lived among us, yet apart. They reared us, fed us, bathed us, taught us. And all the while, they performed their great trick of survival, which was to be simultaneously visible and invisible. Present but nonthreatening. And yet . . . One unguarded look by either party could reveal so much.

I can’t win against you guys. You’re, like, each deadly freaking comic book villains.” “At least she’s acknowledging we’re the bad guys, not the dopey heroes,

Tuesday Man by Stewart Stafford He was only a superhero on Tuesdays, And the rest of the time was his own, Tuesday was the villains' day of rest, Then crime sprees just like Al Capone. He tried to make his Tuesdays longer, By pulling some gruelling all-nighters, But he knew that to be more effective, He'd have to be a 7-day crime-fighter. So, he rearranged his calendar totally, To take the fight to all the baddies, He was on-call from then on, 24/7, Or relaxed playing golf with his caddy. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

Only in one comic book, Dr. Strange, did I find anything that approached a depiction of the esoteric or spiritual. I remember Dr. Strange lying back in meditation and then leaving his body to do battle with villains on the astral plane. That, however, didn’t strike me as very much like my magical moments beneath the sun and the sky when the whole world seemed to stand still.

From where I’ve standing, I’ve already lost everything. I’m the origin story of a dangerous comic book villain.

All of my best friends are imaginary, but at least the cadre of dogs that once existed in my life were real. If I had a choice between super-hero, anti-hero or villain, anti-hero would win out. Somewhere in between solves the detrimental problems that those in power refuse to deal with because of financial gain. A manifesto is nothing more than a more assertive pamphlet. The mythology of comic books was extremely creative and brilliant in concept. The imaginary world offers the psychological escape that is sometimes paramount from the real world. It creates a balance that is sometimes necessary to equalize the mind. It's like an uncomplicated form of math when you don't understand math, and explains that two plus two is four in another way. Star Trek, Star Wars, and Harry Potter were very creative concepts, whole new worlds now exist for people to inhabit. Such things create jobs, revenue, and things for people to occupy themselves with. Dystopia offers great warnings about existence, alerts and informs the populace. Take vampires and werewolves, iconic in creation, still existing after a century. There's a romance angle, and something that also allows kids to enjoy Halloween by playing dress up. Here's my point: I'm a regular person that exist in a world that needs to be fixed, explored and expanded. I'm a cog in the machine, and I don't want to be in the machine. That's what a base job is, and that job usually defines the person. Writing defines me, nothing else.

She looked so old that she reminded me of a comic book hero of my childhood: The Heap. It was a World War I German pilot who was shot down and lay wounded for months in a bog and was slowly changed by mysterious juices into a ⅞ plant and ⅛ human thing. The Heap walked around like a mound of moldy hay and performed good deeds, and of course bullets had no effect on it. The Heap killed the comic book villains by giving them a great big hug, then instead of riding classically away into the sunset like a Western, The Heap lumbered off into the bog. That’s the way the old woman looked.