An Old Man Dies. A Young Woman

Nancy's Got A Guardian Angel. Seven Feet Plus Of Muscle And Mayhem That Goes By The Name Of Marv.

This Should Be Agony. I Should Be A Mass Of Aching Muscle - Broken, Spent, Unable To Move. And, Were I An Older Man, I Surely Would ... ... But I'm A Man Of Thirty - Of Twenty Again. The Rain On My Chest Is A Baptism - I'm Born Again.

I Guess In My Own Egotistical Way I Like To Create My Own Library Of Batman Books That Doesn't Run Contrary To A Single Thing That Has Been Published Before, But It Also Stands On Its Own.

Gotham City. Clean Shafts Of Concrete And Snowy Rooftops. The Work Of Men Who Died Generations Ago. From Here, It Looks Like An Achievement. From Here, You Can't See The Enemy.

I'm A Spoilt Brat. I Thought I Was Just Going To Walk In And Make Movies. But I'd Been My Own Boss For So Long That All Of A Sudden To Be Facing A Roomful Of People Who Were Niggling Over Every Little Scene... I Just Thought I'd Go Back And Draw My Comics And Have A Happy Life.