— If I told you to murder an infant girl, say, still at her mother's breast, would you do it without question?
— Without question? No. I'd ask, "How much?"
When a sensible woman has a serious question put to her, and evades it by a flippant answer, it is a sure sign, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, that she has something to conceal.
Why is it that the one of us who wants to live the most, who deserves to live the most, dies? And the ones that deserve to die, keep on living?
Every time I get close to an answer it slips away, it's maddedning.
Do you really want?
Do you really want me?
Do you really want me dead or alive to live a lie?
— I trust you had a pleasant trip. Fascist.
— I beg your pardon?
— "System of Government characterised by extreme dictatorship." Seven across.
— Oh, I see. It's "fascism."
— Fascism. Wonderful.
It doesn’t matter if we’re wrong…because every time we go wrong, we’ll continue to look for the right answer.
— Still a demon, then?
— What kind a stupid question is that, "Still a demon"? What else am I going to be, an aardvark?