Be their hero. Be their monument, be their angel, be anything they need you to be. Or be none of it. You don’t owe this world a thing. You never did.[to Clark]
I bet your parents taught you that you mean something. That you’re here for a reason. My parents taught me a different lesson, dying in the gutter for no reason at all. They taught me the world only makes sense if you force it to.
Men fall from the sky and gods hurl thunderbolts. Innocents die. That’s how it starts. The fever, the rage, the feeling of powerlessness that turns good men… cruel.
The bells are already been rung, and they’ve heard it. Out in the dark, among the stars. Ding dong, the God is dead.
Twenty years in Gotham. We’ve seen what promises are worth. How many good guys are left. How many stay that way.[to Alfred]
Watch now on:
You don’t have to use the silver bullet, but if you forge one… Well, then… We don’t have to depend upon the kindness of monsters.
Men are still good. We fight. We kill. We betray one another. But we can rebuild. We can do better. We will. We have to.