quotes

Doctor Manhattan: Thermo-dynamic miracles… events with odds against so astronomical they're effectively impossible, like oxygen spontaneously becoming gold. I long to observe such a thing.
And yet, in each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter… Until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged. To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air to gold… that is the crowning unlikelihood. The thermo-dynamic miracle.

Laurie Juspeczyk: But…if me, my birth, if that's a thermodynamic miracle… I mean, you could say that about anybody in the world!.

Dr. Manhattan: Yes. Anybody in the world. ..But the world is so full of people, so crowded with these miracles that they become commonplace and we forget… I forget. We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from the another's vantage point. As if new, it may still take our breath away. Come…dry your eyes. For you are life, rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg; the clay in which the forces that shape all things leave their fingerprints most clearly.


Laurie Juspeczyk: Is that what you are? The most powerful thing in the universe and you're just a puppet following a script?
Doctor Manhattan: We're all puppets, Laurie. I'm just a puppet who can see the strings.


I never said, "The superman exists, and he's American." What I said was,"God exists, and he's American." ~ Dr. Milton Glass, Dr. Manhattan: Super-Powers and the Superpowers

We are all of us living in the shadow of Manhattan. ~ Dr. Milton Glass, Dr. Manhattan: Super-Powers and the Superpowers

No, I don't mind being the smartest man in the world. I just wish it wasn't this one. ~ Adrian Veidt, interview in Nova Express

Well, let me say this, for me, it was never a sex thing. It was a money thing. And I think for some people it was a fame thing, and for a tiny few, God bless 'em, I think it was a goodness thing. I mean, I'm not saying it wasn't a sex thing for some people, but, no, no, I wouldn't say that's what motivated the majority. ~ Sally Jupiter, interview in Probe.

…and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'Save us!' And I'll look down and whisper 'No.'

Rorschach's Journal. October 12th, 1985. : Dog Carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'Save us!' And I'll look down, and whisper 'no.' They had a choice, all of them. They could have followed in the footsteps of good men like my father, or President Truman. Decent men, who believed in a day's work for a day's pay. Instead they followed the droppings of lechers and communists and didn't realize that the trail led over a precipice until it was too late. Don't tell me they didn't have a choice. Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers, and all of a sudden nobody can think of anything to say.

This city is dying of rabies. Is the best I can do to wipe random flecks of foam from its lips?

Beneath me, this awful city, it screams like an abattoir full of retarded children. New York. Somebody knows why. Down there… somebody knows. The dusk reeks of fornication and bad consciences. I believe I shall take my exercise.

42nd Street: Women's breasts draped across every billboard, every display, littering the sidewalk. Was offered Swedish love and French love, but not American love. American love; like coke in green glass bottles, they don't make it anymore.

I leave the human cockroaches to discuss their heroin and child pornography. I have business elsewhere, with a better class of person.

Meeting with Veidt left bad taste in mouth. He is pampered and decadent, betraying even his own shallow, liberal affectations. Possibly homosexual? Must remember to investigate further.
I shall go and tell the indestructible man that someone plans to murder him.

On Friday night, a Comedian died in New York. Someone threw him out of a window and when he hit the sidewalk his head was driven up into his stomach. Nobody cares. Nobody cares but me.

There is good and there is evil, and evil must be punished. Even in the face of Armageddon I shall not compromise in this.

Paid last respects quietly, without fuss. Edward Morgan Blake. Born 1924, forty-five years a Comedian, died 1985, buried in the rain. Is that what happens to us? A life of conflict with no time for friends so that when it's done, only our enemies leave roses.

Heard joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says "Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. Says "But Doctor… I am Pagliacci."

Away down alley, heard woman scream, first bubbling note of city's evening chorus. Approached disturbance. Attempted rape/mugging/both. Cleared throat. The man turned and there was something rewarding in his eyes. Sometimes, the night is generous to me.

For my own part, regret nothing. Have lived life, free from compromise⦠and step into the shadow now without complaint.

Waiting for a flash of enlightment in all this blood and thunder

Rorschach's Journal: Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up And shout "Save Us!"… and I'll look down, and whisper, "No".

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