"Killa: One thinks he can serve his way out. One thinks he can buy his way out. And one thinks he can kill his way out. Each of them all thinks they have the winning hand, but what they fail to realise is that the moment they took a seat at the table... they had already lost."

"Donnie Yen - Caine"

"Your shit is apart, and it's rather unbecoming of a cop and a human being. It's supposed to be the opposite of that: together. Compressed in a small area. To achieve a solid level of shit-compression, squeeze your butt-cheeks together for 30 minutes. Do something similar with the two hemispheres of your brain. Talk to people, maybe that will help."

"Even by the standard of the Filippian kings, Old Sumptuous Filippe was known for his profligacy. […] he blew through the whole national treasury, starting the decline of one of the penultimate century's greatest superpowers: the Suzerain of Revachol. His own maladministration foreshadowed the fall of the monarchy during the Antecentennial Revolution, an end to his family line and the monarchy on the Insulindian isola. […] Stories have it that he had his bedroom converted into a treasure chamber where he stored unfathomable wealth: krugerrands, bars of gold, ornate weaponry, armour, and various chalices. He called it the Sol Aurum. It was obscene. There were whispers he slept on a huge pile of gold-dipped feathers like some obese dragon, instead of a bed like a normal person."

"Bizarre scientific news from Revachol West today, where a police officer's shit has been observed at a pressure of around 495 giga-decimals. These metallic hydrogen levels of shit-togetherness were thought to exist only at the center of collapsing stars, not law officials. It remains to be seen how long the shit-singularity lasts."

"Moralists don't really have beliefs. Sometimes they stumble on one, like on a child's toy left on the carpet. The toy must be put away immediately. And the child reprimanded. Centrism isn't change -- not even incremental change. It is control. Over yourself and the world. Exercise it. Look up at the sky, at the dark shapes of Coalition airships hanging there. Ask yourself: is there something sinister in moralism? And then answer: no. God is in his heaven. Everything is normal on Earth."

"[On Communism] You can’t make an omelette without breaking a few million eggs."

"Maybe you should stop obsessing about your own -- and other people's -- sexuality? Feels like it’s about time to do that. You’ve thought about this for eight hours?! Not only should you stop, you should tell Kim you've stopped obsessing about other people's sexuality too. I'm sure he'd appreciate it. Unless you already got him killed because you were obsessing about your sexuality. (There’s no way of telling from within your brain, but for your own sake: please say you didn’t.)"

"Being off speed makes Cuno sad. Makes Cuno think about shit."

"[on a drug Harry shows him] Cuno doesn't do that radioactive shit. Makes Cuno's dick fall off. Cuno's got a huge dick."

"Nudity is shameful. No officer of the law should ever be caught sans pantalones."

"Pig, these are FALN Modulars! Liquid fit, performance crotch, urban survival shit! Made in Mirova... by scientists. Pants scientists."

"Yeah, it's another copotype -- the worst one. The most savage and brutal. The Art Cop. Nothing is good enough for him. Everything is shit. You have to employ an armada of adjectives to depict and demean the mediocrity of the works and visual institutions around you. Really flex that critical muscle. Until the vocabulary for PUNISHING mediocrity becomes second nature."

"What kind of cop are you?"

"In dark times, should the stars also go out?"

"A detective RPG"

"No superiors can relieve me of my duty, you bulldozed them all to a mass grave for trying to free humanity."

"The colour of moralism is blue. The official motto of the Moralintern, or Moralist International, is: 'A blue forget-me-not; a piece of the grey sky'. Unofficial: 'For a moment, there was hope'"

"This guy's your buddy-buddy. You feel it immediately: you belong to an organization. A fraternity. Of drunks."

"You need to spread that deregulation gospel to the people. Tell them about that foreign fare tax. Preach that 98% gross burden. Preach it, preacher man! Set the brothas free. Taxes are racist."

"Knowledge like that isn't just obscure; it's unknowable. Dangerous theoretical facts like that are probably protected under the Coalition Government's Articles of Dominion, Title XIV, Article 7c. While an expert might be able to suss it out on their own, a layman like you has no hope."

"From crystal to smoke, an expression describing the rigid structures of capitalism turning to smoke under communism."

"Everything is calm in the eye of the racestorm. Your mind is lucid and bright. The mindbending phylogenetics appear more distant and, to be fair, a little ridiculous. The great Race Mystery has cleared up."

"You cannot open all the doors. You have to integrate this into your character. Some doors will forever remain closed. Even if every single other door will open at one time or another, maybe to a key, or maybe to some sort of tool meant for opening doors... But this one will never accede to such commands. A realization crucial to personal growth. Crucial."

"Listen, you Moralintern lackeys. You're a mob, enforcing the unlawful privatization of Revachol. Twenty fat men in the Occident are stealing it all -- and you're their body guards."

"The mask of humanity fall[s] from capital. It has to take it off to kill everyone -- everything you love; all the hope and tenderness in the world. It has to take it off, just for one second. To do the deed."

"Achromatic, odourless, featureless. The pale is the enemy of matter and life. It is not like any other -- or any thing in the world. It is the transition state of being into nothingness."

"Capital has the ability to subsume all critiques into itself. Even those who would critique capital end up reinforcing it instead..."

"René, you're a man with a fork in a world of soup. Please... let's just try to enjoy the game, alright?"

"OFFSHOOTS OF THE SEMENESE PEOPLE INVENTED DISCO WHILE HAVING SEX UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF COCAINE. IT IS A SHAME UPON MY RACE - BUT WHAT IS DONE IS DONE."

"YOUR BODY BETRAYS YOUR DEGENRACY."

"“You do not speak his name, craven! Although he was a clown..." he adds. He turns back to you. "But he was our clown. Ours to ridicule -- and to mourn.""

"By Heavens, why would he not be corrupt? We live in a harsh and disordered world, see. […] the old man is corrupt for our benefit and we know it. Appreciate it, even. He is, personally, not too lavish."

"The manufacturing and sale of automatic rifles was curtailed after the Revolution. The destructive power of such tools proved to be... too much. We do need to retain some humanity in this world."

"Perhaps you can climb them. We're not climbing anything. I'm 43 years old -- and I plan to live to see 70."

"Every school of thought and government has failed in this city -- but I love it nonetheless. It belongs to me as much as it belongs to you."

"YOU DOMINATED LESSER CULTURES -- LIKE THE DEFORMED HIMEANS AND THE INEXPLICABLY POTATO-OBSESSED KOJKOS -- BUT NOW YOUR ASCENT TO THE GENETIC SUMMIT HAS HALTED. YOU ARE OBSESSED WITH SADNESS AND WITH FRIVOLOUS POP CULTURE."

"You don't get to choose your posse, they choose you. Mine are idiots, but they're mine."

"I love Revachol, though. I hope she loves me too."

"The Suzerain is the King. Has everyone forgotten already?" He then slowly nods and says to himself: "They've forgotten already."

"I went unnoticed by the first settlers and the land surveyors of the suzerain. Also by the soldiers of the Revolution and the officials of the occupation. Even the Semenese islanders who came here first, but did not stay, have not seen me."

"You're the son of the World again. Harrister -- a ceaseless agent picking up litter and old newspapers, collecting your little bubble gum wrappers and idiotic picture post cards. Meaningless, meaningless keepsakes."

"The pale is the most dominant geological feature of the world, detective -- the separative tissue between the isolas. It is the interisolary mass."

"You really dropped the ball, Harry. Four point six billion people -- and you failed every single one of them. You really fucked up."

"[About the player] It was him. He is the infernal engine. He never stops. He only gets worse."

"The moral of our encounter is: I am a relatively median lifeform -- while it is you who are total, extreme madness. A volatile simian nervous system, ominously new to the planet. The pale, too, came with you. No one remembers it before you. The cnidarians do not, the radially symmetricals do not. There is an almost unanimous agreement between the birds and the plants that you are going to destroy us all."

"[describing the discovery of Insulinde, where Revachol is located] For a time the crew thought they were experiencing a hallucination. The mast-hand proclaimed 'L´Insulinde! L´Insulinde!' -- the signal to wake up. But they could not. They were sane and conscious, as islands began to appear on the horizon... There are 78,000 uninhabited islands in the Insulindian archipelago, officer. The freckled face of god."

"The butts you saw had a silhouette of a boy wearing a kofia hat -- a tobacco picker. This boy is the Tioumoutiri brand logo. Contemporary Revacholians prefer Drouin (a local blend from the southern islands) or Astra, a legendary cigarette from Graad. Tioumoutiri is favoured by older men who like its old fashioned paper filter tips, insane amount of tar and the sweet smells of colonialism and halva."