Tools are the subtlest of traps. We become reliant upon them and in their absence we are vulnerable, weak, defenseless.[to Morpheus]
The billion Lords of Hell stand arrayed about you. Tell us. Why should we let you leave? Helmet or no, you have no power here. After all, what power have dreams in Hell?
Oh, dear, do you not have Christmas in the future? Is that my fault as well?[to Rory]
No, of course not. What do you think I am? Human?[Mazikeen ‘Maze’ Smith: Are you still upset about me trying to betray you and kill you? It was a month ago.]
Never mind the why. This is gonna be great, Detective. Lots of changes when I’m in charge. War eradicated, world hunger satiated. Hangovers… never should have existed in the first place.
Lifestyles of the rich and tasteless. Looks like Liberace had a yard sale.
It’s time, Doctor. For the final therapy of Lucifer Morningstar. For real, this time.[to Linda]
I knew TV writing isn’t all hookers and blow like the ’80s, but I had no idea how sad it had got.
Hell hath no fury like a record producer scorned.
Feelings change. Especially when one has been caught and imprisoned by mortals.[to Morpheus]
Criminals don’t simply line up to be punished.
