"[at the end of Route B] And so, the final battle with Adam and Eve came to an end. This battle will likely have a great effect on the outcome of the war. 2B and I—our battle will continue for some time to come. But that's another story for another day."

"I never quite realized... how beautiful this world is. I'm coming, everyone... I'm...coming..."

"[opening lines] Everything that lives is designed to end. We are perpetually trapped... in a never-ending spiral of life and death. Is it a curse? Or some kind of punishment? I often think about the god who blessed us with this cryptic puzzle... and wonder if we'll have the chance to kill him."

"Glory to mankind."

"[at the end of Route A] What is it that separates machines from androids like us? The machines have gained emotions...consciousness. The final screams they summoned on the edge of death... They still echo within me."

"[narrating] Before I could convince myself to tell 2B the truth, our final major operation had begun. Still, at the time, I knew nothing. Not how the battle would end... Nor what fate stood in wait for us."

"I seek to learn and adopt all facets of humanity! Some desired love! Others family! Only then did I realize the truth... The core of humanity...is conflict. They fight. Steal. Kill. THIS is humanity in its purest form!"

"[before placing a memorial in Emil's home] 2B. I'm not quite sure what it means to mourn, or even if we have a soul to concern ourselves with... But I hope you're at rest, 2B. Sweet dreams. I'll be with you before long."

"I—or we machine lifeforms, I suppose—have a keen interest in humanity. Love. Family. Religion. War. The human records I unearth, the more charmed I am about their complexity. This city is one of the many areas I created out of a desire to understand—to know—humans. It's grand, don't you think? Almost...spiritual. And yet it's currently nothing more than an android graveyard!"

"A Lunar Lander? I knew it! The moon landing was faked, Area 51 is a coverup, aliens are real! Although... none of that sounds as exciting as it did a week ago..."

"Did you hear that? It's the dead man! Right after the pyramid spoke to me and it was just noise and I understood every word! And this gun's alive... You know what? I'm happy. Happy to be here."

"Something's coming. This threat, an attack. Duty as Director: Keep the Bureau safe."

"It's like... we live in a room, and there's a poster on the wall. We stare at it and we think that's the whole world. The room and the poster. The picture's something nice. A landscape, a famous person... Like in that movie-- ugh, what is it called? The prison movie. The room's a cell and the picture, it's different for each of us. It can be beautiful or terrible, but we're all transfixed. But it's all a lie. Something to distract us from the truth. They're lying to us. We're lying to ourselves. The room's not the world, the world is much bigger and much stranger. There's a hole hidden behind that poster that leads to the real world. We all feel safe in that room. But sometimes -- sometimes, something crawls out from behind the poster. And the ones that see it happen freak out and try to forget what they saw."

"This is gonna be weirder than usual. Can't be helped."

"I was eleven years old the first time I saw behind the poster. They told me I imagined it. I've been trying to pull it down ever since. Will you help?"

"The only person you should fail is yourself. But things change when you become Director."

"Magical thinking is a requirement for survival. Pain and suffering are mandatory. To change things, you have to break yourself."

"You are choosing to become my enemy, Kirklund. You don't want to be."

"He's coming. I've got to get out of here. Dive deeper."

"I've forgotten again! I had a plan! I know it! I've forgotten...!"

"Things set in motion. If the alarm is true, then so is the reason for the alarm. The effect must follow the cause. It's happening again. A return. You have been warned."

"I've written and rewritten. Constructed and deconstructed. Experimented with different voices. Changed the style, changed myself. Forgotten a language, relearned the language. Have I been here before? Gone down this path before? The Darkness wants to hide the past and make me lose my way. You must know where you've been to know where you're going. I trust what I read on these pages. I wrote them for a reason. My notes to myself. The only way to make progress -- recap, then write more. The style, then: Lose the fat. Make it clear. Ugly. Functional. Present, be blunt. Only the brutal truth. Cut through the reality, tear it apart, rewrite it. Be clever, make them do the work. Form the image in their minds -- they make it, you just imply. Incept. They're drawn to the mystery, obsessed. You set it up, they put it together. Their interpretation, and there's only one because you give them no choice. And they believe in it, because it's theirs now."

"Wake needed a hero. A hero needed a crisis. For the part in the story about the government agency, Wake needed something special, something to convey an alien force mimicking human intelligence. Something that can't be translated, translated. Wake channeled Burroughs and Bowie. He cut up sentences and words. "Orange peel", "You are home", "Insane". He put them in a shoebox. He pulled out the words. Wake created a Dadaist poem. He'd try anything once! Or had he tried this before...?"

"esseJ: [reversed speech] I'm much wilder than you..."

"Arish: "The Hiss"? That's what we're calling 'em? Well, that's catchy."

"Hiss Incantation: You are a worm through time. The thunder song distorts you. Happiness comes. White pearls, but yellow and red in the eye. Through a mirror, inverted is made right. Leave your insides by the door. Push the fingers through the surface into the wet. You’ve always been the new you. You want this to be true. We stand around you while you dream. You can almost hear our words but you forget. This happens more and more now. You gave us the permission in your regulations. We wait in the stains. The word that describes this is redacted. Repeat the word. The name of the sound. It resonates in your house. After the song, time for applause. We build you till nothing remains. The egg cracks and the truth will emerge out of you. You are home. You remind us of home. You’ve taken your boss with your boss with you. All hair must be eaten. Under the conceptual reality behind this reality you must want these waves to drag you away. After the song, time for applause. This cliché is death out of time, breaking the first the second the third the fourth wall, the fifth wall, floor; no floor: you fall! How do you say “insane”? Hurts to be happy. An earworm is a tune you can’t stop humming in a dream: "Baby baby baby, yeah." Just plastic. So safe and nothing to worry about. Ha ha, funny. The last egg breaks now. The hole in your room is a hole in you. You came and we let you in through the hole in you. You have always been here, the only child. A copy of a copy of a copy. Orange peel. The picture is you holding the picture. When you hear this you will know you’re in new you. You want to listen. You want to dream. You want to smile. You want to hurt. You don’t want to be."

"Alan Wake: I used to know where fiction ends and reality begins. Here, they're all the same. It's a hideous trap, my every thought made real. Fear, desire... How can I ever know for sure I've escaped and not just lost in my own fantasy of it? The thought alone can drive you insane."

"Emily Pope: You are the director, and that makes you special by definition. Trench is no longer the director, obviously. I'm sorry. I'm talking too much. This whole situation is just a lot."

"I'm Ahti, the janitor, by the way. You'll work for me. You can say I sent you. If they don't hire you, niin johan on helvetti [that's fucked up]. There be work for the axe, take them behind the sauna, jumalauta [by God]."

"You'll take care of it, and soon this crisis gonna be last winter's snow!"

"Do we know each other? I feel... this feels familiar. I can't seem to... I've forgotten, I-- I'm sorry. I'm... My name is Alan Wake."

"This song is a present from my friends to you."

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

"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."

"What kind of cop are you?"

"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."

"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."

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

"A detective RPG"

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

"[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."

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

"You asked that question because you're still under the influence of ideology. That's natural. You're like a fish that's only now discovering that her whole life has been dictated by the movements of sea currents. That's what ideology is. It's like there are these invisible forces everywhere, pushing and tugging you this way and that, and you don't even know they're *there*."

"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."

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

"“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.""

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

"The pale was thought to be impregnable, perpetual. […] Irene La Navigateur, the Queen of Suresne, sent eight expeditions, one after the other, into the mass at the edge of the world. Five of the crews did not return. Two did, but had lost their minds."