The collective ability of that pair to deny the most natural and laudable instincts a being may possess, and insist instead that nocturnal marauding makes them immune from the yearnings of ordinary unmasked humanity – some days, one is truly moved to throttle them.

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.

Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Superpowers corrupt… superbly.

You will only thrive when you are allowed to be what you are.

The Batcave is a monument… to his pain. The cave is more than his war room. He might think of it that way, all the tools and resources he’s assembled for his work. But that’s not it at all. The Batcave is a monument to his pain. And this morning, the way he’s hurting, it was the last place he would come.

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.

Of all my objections to Jonathan Crane—and it is a lengthy list—the one point I will concede is that sometimes Fear has a purpose. Sometimes, fear is nature’s way of saying: Whoa there, Sundance, you sure you want to be jumping off that cliff, what with the rocky bed of the Colorado River churning 300 feet below? Sometimes, Fear has a point.

That ‘S’ on your chest doesn’t stand for ‘subtle,’ Clark.

It’s a foolish girl who waits for Santa.

The collective ability of that pair to deny the most natural and laudable instincts a being may possess, and insist instead that nocturnal marauding makes them immune from the yearnings of ordinary unmasked humanity—some days, one is truly moved to throttle them.