Garth Ennis Quotes

God: But it is my creation...! The Saint of Killers: It's outgrown you.

Don't take no shit off fools. An' you judge a person by what's in 'em, not how they look. An' you do the right thing. You gotta be one of the good guys, son: 'cause there's way too many of the bad.

It doesn`t matter who you are,or how good you got things. Sooner or later,shit goes wrong for everybody. Sooner or later,there comes a time when all you want to do is shout Fuck you to the world.

I'm the one who steps from the shadows, all trenchcoat and cigarette and arrogance, ready to deal with the madness. Oh, I've got it all sewn up. I can save you. If it takes the last drop of your blood, I'll drive your demons away. I'll kick them in the bollocks and spit on them when they're down and then I'll be gone back into darkness, leaving only a nod and a wink and a wisecrack. I walk my path alone... who would walk with me?

..."ya gotta be one of the good guys...'cause there's too many of the bad.

I thought you an' I'd already settled the roles in the fucker/fuckee relationship! I guess I thought wrong!

Preacher: "This is the word of God!" Constantine: "The edited word of God

Why is it the greatest champions of the white race always turn out to be the worst examples of it? You! Where the fuck is your chin?

An' you turn your back on your friend, you may as well go ahead an' join the asshole squad, 'cause you just became one more reason why the damn world's gone to hell.

You work for the devil, you better be ready to die for him.

Remember the seven Ps. Seven what? Proper preparation and planning... Prevent piss-poor performance.

We've the whole wide world out there waiting for us, and we've forever to make the most've it. And that's the thing: enjoyin' life. Not livin' death, or anything stupid like that. What've we got to fear except the sun?

Fuck with the bull, you get the horns.

Jesse: But—but are you okay? Tulip: Yeah, fine. I checked out the bad guy's place and shot them up a little bit, you know. There were quite a lot of them, and one guy nearly got me with a throwing knife— But I know you'll be cool with that, because you can trust me to handle myself. Let's go.

So who turned up the volume of ignorance up to eleven?

As the old saying goes: With great power comes the total fuckin' certainty that you're gonna turn into a cunt.

Criminal: You can suck my dick, motherfucker! Detective Bridges: You suck mine! [shoves barrel of pistol in the Criminal's mouth] An' you get used to it, cause you get to Rykers you're gonna find a lot of dick on the goddamn menu! Now grunt twice for yes! You through bitchin'?

...so I looked at this kid from West Texas, feelin' all cut up an' betrayed 'cause he suddenly realized the Land of the Free been fuckin' him in the ass all his life--an' I told myself, 'Shit, so that's what it's like to be the white boy. Any nigga you ask can tell you that's how America works.

Men are only so much use. Men are boys.

Never plan an act of violence. Just let it happen natural.

We ain't got time for a goddamn poetry recital. An' your juices feel like rain on the inferno? What the fuck is that, is that from the letter you wrote to penthouse?

I'm sweetness an' motherfuckin' light. Filled from goddamn head to toe wit' love.

Larger than life character; a couple of hundred years ago he would have been a pirate. "When in evil company, try to blend in" - that was one of his.

Düzler ters. Siyahlar beyaz. Bir gün uyanırsın ve dünyayı böyle görmeye başlarsın.

Agent Brendel: These are the descendants of our Lord. I myself have seen the documents that prove it. We have protected them and their predecessors for nineteen centuries, and whatever their appearance now, we believe - we know - their child will be the next messiah. Starr: He's shitting in his hand, Brendel. The brother hurls his feces at, and hits Agent Brendel in the face Agent Brendel: Have faith, Herr Starr.

Constantine: "Bullocks. Anyone'll do anything." Chas: "What? Come on, John, everyone's got a line they reach!" Constantine: "Helen used to be the wildest woman I ever knew, Chas. A night out with her and you knew the reason we're all here, you knew what we could all be if we made the effort..She never drank or took anything and I knew she'd never need to and now look at the bleedin' state of her. No one has a line and no one has a soddin' moral code either, not outside a John Wayne movie

If the Devil created Texas like some folks say he did, this is where he rested on the seventh day.

I guess this is where they send the abortions that live.

Christ, would you look at that shite? Supes an' religion, the two worst things on the planet.

You know you can be a real bitch sometimes." "I can be a perfect cunt.

Christ, what a sad collection of losers, mm?' 'Too much time on their hands, mate. Leads to poetry.

Folks love fantasy. Beasts the shit outta reality and day of the week.

That's what you get when a bunch of fucks in tights try to save the goddamn day.

There'd be no point trynna blackmail a bloke everyone already knows is a cunt, would there?

I don't think this one's business as usual. Me evil cunt sense is tinglin'.

Reggie Atkinson: Oh God. Oh God. I went to war with the Nazis... and for 25 years, all I've been scared of is Americans.

Every dent, every scratch, every mark, tells a story. A story that ends with me, winning.

I caught a glimpse of heaven once. The Angels showed me. The idea was I'd kill for them. Clean up their mistakes on Earth. Eventually redeem myself. Tried it. Didn't like it. Told them where to stick it. So they brought me up to heaven, to see what I'd be missing. A wife. A son. A daughter. I hadn't seen them since they bled out in my arms. Then I was cast down. Back to a world of killers. Rapists. Psychos. Perverts. A brand new evil every minute, spewed out as fast as men can think them up. A world where pitching a criminal dwarf off a skyscraper to tell his fellow scum you're back is a sane and rational act. The angels thought it would be hell for me. (Said dwarf hits the ground with a splat) But they were wrong. Welcome Back, Frank. Says New York City.

I guess you can stay sort of true to the story; you don't have to artificially bring the character back from whatever doom you've designed for them, you can tell the story, I suppose, honestly.

I hear you're a conspiracy nut. Well, this is the conspiracy, kid. It ain't ancient gods an' aliens an' coded shit on the dollar bill. It ain't even a secret, it's somthin' ordinary folks do for a livin' every day of the week. It's business.

Sheriff Root: "Ask Me, I reckon it was niggers" Deputy: "How you reckon that, Sheriff Root?" Sheriff Root: "Kinda thing they do" Deputy: "What, burn two hundred people to death, right down to the bone? They do that?" Sheriff Root: "MARTIAN niggers

You don't have in IN you to be like that, Hughie. You had too nice an upbringing. Your mom and dad were too good to you. And I wish you could see that you're not less of a MAN, or some sort of inferior person, just because you can't be harsh and hard and cold.

For The Motherland, I used to say. The rest still do. Believers all. 'Rina as a matter of faith. Lydi with all her brave young heart. Vera growls it aloud with every shot. For The Motherland. I recall the flare of warmth it brought, the comfort on each step through hell. But those days are behind me now. The words I need, I cannot speak. To accompany a bullet I can never fire.

He ran from the terror of his own laughter. It snapped at his heels like a cur and simultaneously seemed a thing alive inside him; curdled in his belly, ready to come boiling out at any instant. He ran from the awful sadness of his wife's expression, in that last pathetic instant as she hammered at him uselessly; shattered wrists making empty mittens of her hands. And he ran from the voice at the base of his skull; new like shining steel yet ancient as a dagger, that smirking hiss that made the things it bade him do feel like their own reward. He ran from it, but he thought he knew its name.

The Pro (a creator-owned Eisner-nominated book for Image Comics, written by Garth Ennis).

Sin duda eres un bastardo Harry… pero un bastardo puede perdonar a otro. ¿Quién más lo haría?

Christ, I think I'd grow old if I lost you.

I walked away in the manner that we always do from horror: believing that refusal to accept reality might just negate it, knowing that it walks one constant, smirking step behind us. I walked until the vast, black truth of what had happened overwhelmed me, becoming part of my existence, pivotal--" - Ian Cowley, Crossed: Badlands #1

I can hear your heartrate, you know. You can keep your face perfectly still, but can’t stop your heart pounding along like that - and I know it’s not from fear. I'd be able to smell it. It’s anger. Exactly the same as the last time we met. I asked the others afterwards, and none of them picked up on it. All they got was a constant sense of disdain, like you barely thought they were worth looking at. Actually, you didn’t look at them. You couldn’t take your eyes off me.

I can hear your heartrate, you know. You can keep your face perfectly still, but can’t stop your heart pounding along like that - and I know it’s not from fear. I'd be able to smell it. It’s anger. Exactly the same as the last time we met. I asked the others afterwards, and none of them picked up on it. All they got was a constant sense of disdain, like you barely thought they were worth looking at. Actually, you didn’t look at them. You couldn’t take your eyes off me.

Whatever it tells me, whatever it says - it sounds like the word of God.

I get down on my knees every mornin' an' give eternal thanks for the existence of girls in a otherwise pointless universe.

No, I would not say that assault with a baseball bat constitutes "justice being done.

Tension demands release. Unusual tension demands release that can only be described as appalling.

He's got a soul so damn cold and rattlesnake mean, Satan himself threw him outta hell.

The urge to fight, to maul, to murder: it is the greatest cancer that afflicts mankind. It obliterates the body of the victim, and the spirit of the the one who strikes the blow. I have seen it...

You're the only person who means anything to me in the whole world, you're all I've got..." "Well then you've got nothin.

I can melt steel, fucker, I'll microwave your guts and punch them our your asshole.

Fuck, that's good. That's habit-formin'.

Dude, are you like English or something--? Yeah, That's right, dude. I'm like English.

Well if I ever stick a cape on an' start usin' ordinary human bein's to wipe me arse with, you'll know you were right to worry, won't you?

Churches are just clubs for people who like to join things.

Wait a minute, even I've hearda him. He died savin' the entire universe. Choked on cum...

Needs more gun.

I'm the perfect girl. You read about me in Maxim or whatever. I tell dirty jokes like I'm one of the guys, and I'm sitting there in my panties and bra so you can see I'm a piece of ass in the bargain. Except I'm real, so I come with all kinds of complications.

When it comes to Vought, or any corporate outfit really, all that counts to them is profit. They send their kids on planes built by the lowest bidder. They travel on the fuckin' things themselves. Company jets or first class, they still go on 'em. Safety costs. Money's God.

It's the time to run away an' hide under the bed, an' hope the world's still in one piece when you come out again.

All right, funny man. Some of the shite I've seen in the last couple o' years makes AIDS monkeys sound downright sensible.

They're looking for guys like us, he says, young and hungry, not done yet. I say I'm not hungry, Rick, all I am is angry. He says that'll do just fine.

Rayner can't go into politics, she's got more shit on her than Elton John's cock!

After all, you can't really blame the Waffen S.S. for doing what comes naturally. But a funny thing happened on the way to the moral high ground.

An interesting man. He was a last minute replacement as Bush's running mate, when the original candidate managed to say "Thy Kingdom Cunt" at a prayer breakfast.

Well, I once recall an old master sergeant once telling me that NCOs look after the men so that officers can figure out how to get them killed. That's the difference between maintenance and command.

Odia lo suficiente y olvidarás que vives en el mierdero sin trabajo, sin seguro médico y con seguridad. Además de que eres un jodido estúpido sin esperanzas de nada

I got taken in by my uncle Frankie, know to his friends as Butcher Franchetti and to his enemies as 'Oh God no, don't kill my children, Don Franchetti'.

Johann Kleist: If something is waiting for me in that midnight thicket, it can have me soon enough. To be claimed by that primal darkness, to be swallowed up, to cease: the thought of it is bliss to me.

Jamie: Um... when you say 'Hopeless Romantic'... what you actually mean is I'm-- Beth: Hopeless at being romantic, yes.

Lentrong Giap: We are both bound for Hell, Colonel Fury. But I hope you find a comfortable place to wait.

Kit: I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. Neil: I know. Kit: I mean I didn't mean the bit about it bein' better if they'd killed you. I meant the rest. Neil: It's okay, Kathy. I know. -Heartland

Martinez: I guarantee you this: not one of us has learned a single thing today. -Condors

The gun has a name, made up of words and numbers. A measurement in millimeters, a decimal point, all befitting a precision instrument. 'Call it a rifle', I was told... But it is a gun.

Anna: I've never understood all this devotion. Mouse: Don't you know? They all called me Mouse. But you were they only one who didn't believe it.

The rifle said more than the man. It was a short-magazine Lee-Enfield, three-oh-three caliber, and its worn brass buttplate and the scars & scratches on its woodwork spoke volumes of the century gone by. They spoke of Mons, 1914, where cries of TEN ROUNDS RAPID! convinced the German soldiers they faced machine-gun fire, and English bowmen from the time of Agincourt-- so legend has it-- appeared in the clouds to cover the retreat. They spoke of Harry and Jack on their way up to Arras, of the morning on the Somme where men of Ulster, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, all the children of the empire fixed bayonets as long as swords and went to feed the earth. They spoke of Tommies on the beach at Dunkirk, taking hopeful potshots at the Stukas, and of stopping Rommel dead at Alam Halfa. They spoke of Normandy, the sneaking gang-fights in the hedgerows, where a platoon could bleed out faster than its predecessors on the Somme. Finally, they spoke of Afghanistan, the land that swallows armies. Of ancient rifles in the hands of men as hard as mountains, glimpsed on CNN & BBC, anachronisms next to things of tin and plastic. Of weapons taken by the locals from the empire that had fought them, an inheritance of iron and gun-oil out on the Northwest Frontier. They spoke of history. The man was Russian.

Kit: Is all this [visit to Northern Ireland] doin' your head in? Rodney: Bloody Hell, no, anything but. I've really enjoyed myself. Peter's soddin' hilarious, he really is. It's just a bit weird, that's all. And all of you being so used to it, that makes it even weirder. I mean, you've got those guys in there [the British soldiers], and that story of Peter's... There might have really been a bomb, but to him, it's just a funny story to tell... Kit: Aye, which is how you know people are really gettin' used to somethin'-- they laugh at it. An' those fellas in there were just part of the queue, part of the background. An' that's the way it is. Most've the time.

Kit [to Claire]: Our Ma was a brilliant wee woman, wasn't she?

Tulip: Okay, let me tell you what you're doing here-- you're writing a story. You've got the plot and dialogue from Melrose Place and fucking Baywatch, and you're writing yourself a little story in your head... The trouble is, you're using me as one of the characters.

Things aren't so bad if you can laugh at the Devil

The sun was shining brightly on the day that I died. It blazed from the heavens. It sang from the skies. On a day the world seemed born again, the HMS Nightingale met her end. She took us with her, every one of us: the Old Man, me, the Doc, the Chief, the babyfaced killer in A-Turret, the fat man from Swansea, all the rest. She took us to the bottom. Saved our souls.

Yeah. He's got a hard-on for mass murder and giving kids cancer and his big old answer to the existential clusterf*ck that is humanity is to nail his own bleeding son to a plank. That is a c*nt move. Come on, even you got to agree with me there. We should lob a f*cking nuke at him, get it over and done with. You know what I'm saying?" - Butcher, 'The Boys

Harry Constantine: It happens to us all. We get a sniff of sorcery and Oh! what plans we make! We'll shake Creation and leave nothing but smiles and wit and a reputation all men envy!

Harry Constantine: We've let a moment's warmth put off decision's chill. I don't want to go back below, John, bastard though I am. I want to rest. John Constantine: You're a bastard all right, Harry... But one bastard can forgive another. Who else will?

It was terrible to watch one of those things die. Eighteen tons, a hundred feet from wingtip to wingtip, ten men aboard, all fighting to get out. If she spun, the centrifugal force would pin them to the walls... You're trapped inside a metal box. You've got five miles to fall. You know it. [...] Sometimes you could hear them all the way.

Frank Castle: The sun slipped away behind me, the last sliver seeming to pause on the horizon, then succumbing to the black. And I drove on through the shadows of America... though the long, cold, dark night that I've made of my life.

There is a Great Beast loose in the world of men. It awoke in dark times, to fight a terrible enemy. It stormed through Europe, across the far Pacific, and crushed the evil that it found there underfoot. But when it was victorious, when the crooked cross and the rising sun were done with, the Great Beast's keepers found that it would not go back to sleep. The Beast has many heads, and on its heads are written names: Lockheed. Bell. Monsanto. Dow. Grumman. Colt. And many more. And they are very, very hungry.

In the end, the war in Vietnam was much like any other. There were those who profited. Those it devoured. And then there were those for whom there are no words.