Remember, remember the 5th of november

Hello, Evey.
— You. It was you.
Yeah.
— That wasn't real... Is Gordon - ?
I'm sorry, but Mr. Deitrich's dead.
I thought they'd arrest him, but when they found a Koran in his house, they had him executed.
— Oh God...
Fortunately, I got to you before they did.
— You got to me? You did this to me? You cut my hair? You tortured me? You tortured me! Why?
You said you wanted to live without fear.
I wish there'd been an easier way, but there wasn't.
I know you may never forgive me... but nor will you understand how hard it was for me to do what I did. Every day I saw in myself everything you see in me now. Every day I wanted to end it, but each time you refused to give in, I knew I couldn't.
— You're sick! You're evil!
You could've ended it, Evey. You could've given in, but you didn't. Why?
— Leave me alone! I hate you!

That's it! See, at first I thought it was hate, too. Hate was all I knew, it built my world, it imprisoned me; taught me how to eat, how to drink, how to breathe. I thought I'd die with all my hate in my veins. But then, something happened. It happened to me... just as it happened to you.

— Shut up! I don't want to hear your lies!
Your own father said that artists use lies to tell the truth.
Yes, I created a lie. But because you believed it, you found something true about yourself.
— No!
What was true in that cell is just as true now.
What you felt in there has nothing to do with me.
— I can't feel anything anymore!
Don't run from it, Evey. You've been running all your life.

Trance

"sexy girls at a rave turn into blood thirsty killers after taking a mysterious new drug" = Trance

Vai certamente ser espetacular!

There don't seem to be so many laughs around these days.

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 rains 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 smoothtalkers, and all of a sudden nobody can think of anything to say.

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.

Are they right? Is it futile? Soon there will be war. Millions will burn. Millions will perish in sickness and misery. Why does one death matter against so many? Because there is good and there is evil, and evil must be punished. Even in the face of armageddon I shall not compromise in this. But there are so many deserving of retribution and there is so little time.