graphic-novels

"Following my father's death, I think it’s true that the house became my whole world. During the long period of mother's illness, the house often seemed so vast, so confidently REAL, that by comparison, I felt little more than a ghost haunting its corridors. Scarcely aware that anything could exist beyond those melancholy walls."

"I imagined it being done by someone like Brian Bolland, and my vision was of it being ultra-real to the point of being painful. [. . .] But then when Dave McKean did it it became something quite different, because he wanted to make it more abstract. And I think that in a lot of ways, the ways we both approached it clashed in the middle. [. . .] I think it would have been easier for people to deal with if it had been a lot more concrete."

"We piled all this stuff on top of it, and dressed it up in its best clothes, and sent it out. Then I sat down afterwards and realized, "Why? Why bother? It's such an absurd thing to do". It's like suddenly realizing the fact that you're desperately trying to work around the subject matter — trying to make the book despite the subject, rather than because of it. At the end of the day, if you really love to do Batman comics, then that's probably the best thing to do. Not liking them, and then trying to make something out of them is just a waste of time. Also, by the end of it I'd really begun to think that this whole thing about four-color comics with very, very overpainted, lavish illustrations in every panel just didn't work. It hampers the storytelling. It does everything wrong. It's very difficult to have any enthusiasm about it after that."

"Twinkle twinkle little bat! How I wonder what you're at!"

"Sometimes it's only madness that makes us what we are."

"The intention was to create something that was more like a piece of music or an experimental film than a typical adventure comic book. I wanted to approach Batman from the point of view of the dreamlike, emotional and irrational hemisphere, as a response to the very literal, "realistic" "left brain" treatment of superheroes which was in vogue at the time, in the wake of The Dark Knight Returns, Watchmen and others."

"The story's themes were inspired by Lewis Carroll, quantum physics, Jung, and Crowley; its visual style by surrealism, Eastern European creepiness, Cocteau, Artaud, Švankmajer, the Brothers Quay, etc."

"The construction of the story was influenced by the architecture of a house — the past and the tale of Amadeus Arkham forms the basement levels. Secret passages connect ideas and segments of the book. There are upper stories of unfolding symbol and metaphor. We were also referencing sacred geometry, and the plan of the Arkham House was based on the Glastonbury Abbey and Chartres Cathedral. The journey through the book is like moving through the floors of the house itself. The house and the head become one."

"The original first draft of the script included Robin. Robin appeared in a few scenes at the beginning then remained at Police Headquarters for the bulk of the book, where he spent his time studying plans and histories of the house, in order to find a way in to help his mentor. Dave McKean, however, felt that he had already compromised his artistic integrity sufficiently by drawing Batman and refused point blank over for the Boy Wonder — so after one brave but ridiculous attempt to put him in a trench coat, I wisely removed him from the script."

"Sometimes… sometimes I think the Asylum is a head. We're inside a huge head that dreams us all into being. Perhaps it's your head, Batman. Arkham is a looking glass. And we are you."

"My movements through the house have become as formalized as ballet and I feel that I have become an essential part in some incomprehensible biological process. The house is an organism, hungry for madness. It is the maze that dreams."

"I pity the poor shades confined to the Euclidean prison that is rationality."

"Afraid? Batman's not afraid of anything. It's me. I'm afraid. I'm afraid that the Joker may be right about me. Sometimes I... question the rationality of my actions. And I'm afraid that when I walk through those asylum gates... when I walk into Arkham and the doors close behind me... it'll be just like coming home."

"Len Wein ... had written a few short and evocative paragraphs on the history of Arkham Asylum and it was here I learned of poor Amadeus Arkham, the hospital's founder, whose wife and daughter had been murdered by Martin "Mad Dog" Hawkins. In Wein's précis, Arkham's madness was described as a result of the Stock Market crash of 1929. It occurred to me that having one's wife and daughter slaughtered by a man named "Mad Dog" might have been sufficient cause for a nervous breakdown, so I decided to explore and expand on the life of this throwaway character."

"Finished. It's finished. I'm Arkham. I'm home. Where I belong."

"I see my wife first. My dear Constance. Her body in pieces. Harriet lies nearby, indescribably violated. Almost idly, I wonder where her head is. And then I look at the doll's house. And the doll's house looks at me."

"Who cares for you? You're nothing but a pack of cards."

"The portrayal of Batman presented here is not definitive and is not necessarily how I would write the character otherwise. The repressed, armored, uncertain and sexually frozen man in Arkham Asylum was intended as a critique of the '80s interpretation of Batman as violent, driven, and borderline psychopathic. My own later portrayal of Batman in the JLA comic was one which emphasized the character's sanity and dignity."

"Morrison, Grant Morrison: Combining the Worlds of Contemporary Comics book, p. 68."

"Have you seen this like skinny, white-haired, maybe-homeless girl hanging around the restaurant lately? She kinda has… red eyes. Reddish."

"A second chance awaits. 1. Write your mistake 2. Ingest one mushroom 3. Go to sleep 4. Wake anew Events must occur on these premises"

"Keeping the house spirit happy— I mean, from a historical perspective— It was probably like some kind of justification for the endless amounts of housework the women had to do, right?"

"Lis’s mushrooms. Lis’s house. Very old. There are rules."

"We make things good for them… They make things good for us. It’s so simple."

"Is that weird? It’s my little ritual. You know, keeping the house spirit happy."

"I didn't really understand Yamazaki's anger, but becoming furious allowed him to put off thinking about these problems. He acted as though he would simply not commit to anything, even if everything caved in around him. I decided to follow his example and just avoid reality for the time being."

""We wanted to smile casually and happily each day; we wanted to enjoy a normal, average, invigorating daily life. The incomprehensibly rough waves of fate have made it impossible, though—so, cry in despair! We really wanted to be useful to everyone, to be respected by everyone, to live in harmony with everyone. Now, though, we're lolicon hikikomori—so, cry in despair! You must cry!"

"The purpose of the Hitojichi Kokankai: Members will exchange hostages with each other; you offer your lives to each other, as hostages. In other words, it means, "if you die, I die, too, dammit!" If we agree to this, then we will be unable to act, like nuclear powers, glaring at each other during a cold war. And even if we want to die, we will be unable to. If the situation turns into, "I don't care, even if you die," then this group's system has failed. Let's make sure that it doesn't become that way!"

"According to the results of my research, not just hikikomori, but all emotional problems are caused by an inability to conform to one's environment. Basically, because you can't get along well with the world, various difficulties arise."

"Name of hikikomori: Satou Tatsuhiro. Name of escape supporter: Misaki Nakahara. Defining the hikikomori as party A and the supporter as party B, the following has been contracted between the two parties. A will confess to B all anguish, complication, complaints, whines, and every other inward thought concerning escape from hikikomori life. B will do everything in his or her power to aid A’s escape from hikikomori life and to make his or her return to society (noted as C) succeed. Additionally, during the process toward C, B will attempt in preserve the emotional stability of A. Conversely, A will speak politely to B. A will obediently do anything that B instructs. Furthermore, A will not treat B as an obnoxious person. A will not treat B cruelly. Naturally, violent acts, such as hitting or kicking, shall not be performed. Counseling shall take place every evening at the Mita Fourth District park. Come after eating dinner. If A observes the contract, A should move toward C. If A breaks the contract, the penalty is one million yen."

"Defining Satou Tatsuhiro as party A and Misaki Nakahara as party B, the two parties agree to the following: A will not start to hate B. In fact, A will start to like B. A will never change his mind. A will never have a change of heart. When one party is lonely, the other always will be at his or her side. As B is always lonely, basically A always will be at B's side. If we do this, I think our lives probably will move in a good direction. I think the painful times will go away. If you break this contract, the penalty is ten million yen."

"Come on, what idiot could have come up with such a stupid scenario? It was me. I was the very person who had written the original outline for the story. I grew sad. It was a bittersweet sadness, because I thoroughly understood the scenario of the game: Soldiers taking a stand against evil. This had been our exact desire; we had wanted to fight an evil organization; we had wanted to fight villains. If a war had broken out, we would have joined the JSDF36 right away and launched kamikaze attacks. That definitely would have been a meaningful way to live and an attractive way to die. Had there been villains in the world, we would have battled them. Fists raised in the air, we would have fought. There was no mistake about it. There weren't any villains, though. The world was just complicated in various ways, and there weren't any obvious villains to be found. It was excruciating."

"A normal life within society would be impossible for someone like me, who cried so unsuccessfully to apply Freudian analysis to last night's dream. My dream featured indulging in an impure heterosexual relationship in a small room with the female upperclassman from high school, and my analysis suggested only that it indicated a subconscious desire to indulge an impure heterosexual relationship in a small room with the female upperclassman from high school. My final result concluded, "What part of this is a dream interpretation? You're just reiterating the same thing!""

"In short, if you can't be self-confident, then just imagine the person you're speaking to as even more of a failure than you think you are!"

"Someone that beautiful should be able to live a carefree life. In actuality, there's nothing to do about a useless, recurring depression. A person could become disconsolate or angry. Even if they're enraged enough to punch something, they won't find a target. A huge organization. . . They wish that some huge, evil organization existed. That becomes our dream... Terrible things inundate the world. This world is wrapped in complex, messed-up, senseless, and incomprehensible misfortune and sadness."

"In my heart, I really do long for that kind of drama because there is truth in those television shows. Because there's the introduction, development, turn, and resolution; there's an explosion of emotions, and there's the conclusion. . . On the other hand, our lives continually are filled with dim, dreamy anxiety, and there are no easily understood dramas, situations, or confrontations—nothing at all like that. . . Isn't that sort of absurd? I'm twenty, and you're twenty-two, Satou. Even so, we've never really loved anyone, hated anyone, fought as a result of love or hate, or had any of those experiences at all. It's terrible!"

"Listen to me, Satou. Women. . . they aren't people. No, they're not normal humans. In fact, it might not be an exaggeration to say that they're unbelievably close to being inhuman monsters. Therefore, there's no need to go out of your way like this. What does it matter if you're scorned by some female?"

""I just kept thinking and thinking, 'what are we missing?' There's something missing from us. There's a big hole in our chests, so I wanted something to fill that hole. I wanted something to make me content. That's it. Yesterday, our religious observation reinforced my meditation on the subject. Everyone is uncertain. In this incomprehensible world, we want to be ordered around by someone else, and that's why we made God. The dual antagonism between God and Satan explains the world more easily. You see? That strong, simple story! I honestly was affected!"

"Our reason and instinct are in opposition, but we can't get rid of either one. Given that, what are we meant to do? Compromise appropriately and start trying to date girls? Get married and try having kids? That is, after all, the conventional path. However, I discovered. . . women. . . those things just aren't human. Instead, they may, in fact, be closer to monsters. About a year ago, I realized the truth. While I was working at a convenience store to earn my tuition, all kinds of things happened. They're really terrible memories, and I don't want to think about them anymore."

"Those who believe will be saved! We must make something we ourselves can believe in order to bring meaning to our lives! And the meaning will be how we live on with our incredible new religion!"

"However, the largest source of rage is his own cowardice. He is poor because he lacks the skill with which to earn money. He has no girlfriend because he lacks charisma. But the process of seeing this truth and acknowledging his own incompetence requires quite a bit of courage. No human being, regardless of who they might be, wants to look directly at their own shortcomings."

"We wander across the years, stumble through frequent failures, rare successes; consume, copulate, manipulate, acquire, rage, weep, hate, love — and it means nothing. Because for all our grasping and desiring, all our craving and prayers — nothing fills the emptiness."

"It's not extinction exactly. More of a Limbo — on the road to extinction, A Place Between. Around me I hear the whisper of souls like myself — drifting, Waiting. … For sweet oblivion."

"Look at her: so radiant! Her entire being suffused with something so great, so deep, that I wouldn't dare try to name it; to soil it with words. … But I have named it — named her — haven't I? A name of my own creation, my own compulsion. But the right name I think (though I can't say why). The proper name: Mercy."

"She's a mystery, Mercy is — and a quick one at that: One minute India, the next New York: homeless and lice-ridden, sleeping in the cold. … The face and form are different — but somehow the same. I can always recognize her. That infuriating smile gives her away… as if she knows something no one else does; as if she holds the key that unlocks a question no one even thought to ask."

"They scurry like brainless little ants, intent of their task. … Intent on keeping me alive. … Why? Because they care? Doubtful. … They don't know me. All they know is that Louisa — the pathetic idiot — is paying thousands of dollars a day to maintain the illusion of life."

"All that ugliness and agony, all that sin and disease — is flooding over her; into her! And it's not the creature's doing — it's Mercy's! … She wants the awful pain, she's claiming it as her own! Claiming skin/crust/darkness/filth/madness! And revealing, beneath it, not a nameless entity — but a lost soul. … I read the thing…the soul…and see an existence of despair, ended in suicide: Freedom — in a bullet to the brain. … But there was no freedom, not even in death; just Limbo. Trapped between two worlds — unable to move on. Unable to do anything — but feed on its own despair. And ultimately become it. … And now? … Has Mercy, through her suffering, lifted the soul's burden? Purified it? Set it free? … So it seems."

"This suffering … you must endure. It's your destiny. Your freedom. I can't take it from you. … But I can share it."

"Old defeated, every bone aching — yet she labors on. … Why does she do it. Slip unnoticed, through old and young, strong and dying, male and female, black and white — feeling every stretch of muscle, drinking in every gulp of air — vibrating through every blood drop shed, every tear fallen? … Why move, a soul-wind through those millions of meaningless lives? … Why be trapped by the limitations of human flesh — defiled by the stink and rot of human kind — when she's so much more?"

"It was her intention. from the start, to transform me as surely as she transformed the others. … So, transformed, I dissolve, dissipate, descend — back into my body. … Into a world that seems suddenly charged with Divinity; with Secrets and with Truths of greatest profundity— and greatest simplicity."