I Suppose All Fictional Characters, Especially In

There Has Been A Rather Unpleasant Sensibility Apparent In Frank Miller's Work For Quite A Long Time.

On The One Occasion Where I Did Try Writing A Screenplay, I Found The Rewriting Just Unendurable.

The Past Can't Hurt You Anymore, Not Unless You Let It.

Happiness Is The Most Insidious Prison Of All.

I Sat On The Bed. I Looked At The Rorschach Blot. I Tried To Make It Look Like A Spreading Tree, Shadows Pooled Beneath It, But It Didn't. It Looked More Like A Dead Cat I Once Found, The Fat, Glistening Grubs Writhing Blindly, Squirming Over Each Other, Frantically Tunneling Away From The Light. But Even That Isn't The Real Horror. The Horror Is This: In The End, It Is Simply A Picture Of Empty Meaningless Blackness.