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Been walking a while now. Weeks, maybe. Always south, southwest, orienting by the feel of the sun on my face. Took the bus for as long as I could stand it. The noise, the stench--too much. But out here in the badlands there's nothing. It's what I need. Nothing. Nothing but the hiss of the wind in the needlegrass and the endless, hypnotic tread of boot heels on dusty asphalt. Nothing to fear. I don't think about what I'm walking away from. I don't think about anything at all. I just walk.
You think you can...turn me into a blubbering wreck...by preying on my fears...But I've already faced them--and come out the other side! You understand me, Calavera? I know what I am...Who I am...And I am not afraid!
Sometimes, I think I accomplish more with my fists than with my law firm. Sometimes, I don't really care. All I know is that the Kitchen's quiet tonight......and that's good. Thanks, Pop. Happy father's day.
My father was a good man. A good man caught up in a bad situation. A bad situation that eventually brought him loneliness. Loneliness that introduced him to the bottle. Which made him do bad things. Which brought him right back to the bottle. This place, this place was a turning point for both of us. My father, my hero, beating on the local butcher, extorting money for the neighborhood wise guy. It was the first time my father ever saw himself through my eyes. It was the beginning of my seeing the world through his.
Battlin' Jack Murdock was my father. Battlin' Jack wasn't perfect. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Battlin' Jack did some terrible things for some very bad men. But when push came to shove......Jack gave the middle finger to those bad men. Perhaps he'd grown sick of the scum he had kowtowed to. Or perhaps he just couldn't stand the sight of his own reflection in his little boy's eyes. But one day Jack Murdock dug deep and found that part of himself that used to be noble and good and uncompromised by the world. He found his soul. And with that......he saved mine.
I can't voucher for the accuracy of tv news reporting, Wally, but at least the news won't be altered by criminals. Though, I think all people should learn to get their news from many sources -- tv, radio, newspapers, magazines -- to prevent this sort of thing from happening in the future.
We're only human, Billy. We can be weak. We can be evil. The only way to stop us from killing each other is to make rules, laws. And stick to them. They don't always work. But mostly, they do. And they're all we've got.
The longer I have my sight back, the plainer it is that I value it too much. Maybe enough that I'd do anything to keep it. And that worries me... Because that "profound sense of justice"of mine is even more important to me. There is no place for anything which compromises it. No room for any doubt.
Rompin' around town in a costume may not be the safest job of all -- but it has its good points -- at least, I don't have to squander my hard-earned shekels on cab fare! -- or worry about getting caught in traffic jams!
I'm afraid I out-smarted myself when I took on a third identity -- that of my own "twin brother", Mike! I never dreamed it would lead to such embarrassing complications! Now, my partner and best friend thinks I'm a coward and the girl I love has lost all respect for me! It's lucky I can make it as a super-swinger -- 'cause as a diplomat, I'm one big washout!
My problem isn't Daredevil -- and never was! It was always Matt -- the blind lawyer -- the hapless, helpless invalid! He's been my plague... since the day I first donned a costume! Then, let Matt Murdock no longer exist!!
I should live in a cave. I should live in a cave and have no friends. No family. I should care about no one. Just live in a cave and go out at night to break bones and teeth... ...but then...I'd probably be even more crazy than I already am...
It has been a miserable last few years. And every time I thought I'd finally hit bottom, God somehow found me a bigger shovel. All this pain and all this loss and... and I just can't bear the weight of it anymore and stay sane. I know that. So this is the way I've decided to be. You can say I'm in denial. You can decide I'm not dealing or that I'm a jerk... That's up to you. No offense, but I don't care. This is how I choose to cope.
Even I can't find the words to express my rage and disgust, and I am very good at that. Every victim in the room is screaming as if caught in the fires of hell itself. And if they're looking to me for any sort of relief at all, I wish I could tell them...that it's coming.
Wait. That stench. It's positively rancid on these guys and while I smelled it only once, over twenty years ago there's no way I could ever forget it. My God. Oh, my God. It's the toxin that BLINDED ME. No wonder they're berserk. Whoever did this to these poor bastards must have set them loose in the city--where their hypersenses would drive them insane!
Bullseye, the world's deadliest man. An invalid kept alive by machines. If all that's left of you is your sick twisted mind, I can imagine no more fitting punishment. I'd call that a victory. Wouldn't you?
I don't owe you after yesterday. I can't be sure I ever owed you anything. I'm not racking up medical debt to settle some imaginary obligation. No, we're going to get you upand about so that I can pick you clean of absolutely anything else you may have picked up about the Sons of the Serpent. Because if they really have infested the institutions of this city... Then I'm going to clean house.
This is not New York. I'm not a stranger to San Francisco. I actually lived here for about a year. But that was a long time ago, and it's changed. A lot. I really need to reacclimate myself since it's my new home and all but now isn't the time.
Shut up. I am quite the expert on self-destructive despair. I know exactly what it's like to have nothing. To have taken from me all the light there is. I can spend the rest of the night going, for your benefit, through the impossibly long list of tragedies I have faced. All the loves I have lost. All the hopeless moments.
The reason you feel like there's a hole in your memories is because there is. Everyone used to know my identity, and I did something to change that. I'm still the man you trusted. The only difference is now you don't know my name.
The Punisher is my nemisis. My opposite number. I was wrong to bring others into the hunt. I wasn't meant to lead. I was meant to work alone. It's better this way. This way I'm the one taking the risk. The only one who gets hurt.
We all want to live in a world where we can make a difference, Ms. McDuffie. That's why Spider-Man fights the good fight. Or Captain Marvel. Or me. Or... There are a lot of us. And we don't all wear masks these days. Iron Man went public. So did Captain America. Others. Probably because it's harder to keep secrets in an internet surveillance age. But I think some of it, too, is that the ethical paradox can wear you down. No one on the white-hat side has ever hidden his or her identity with less than noble intent: about something bigger than us. To represent a greater justice where the focus can be on right and wrong... and not on whether the bad guys will exact reprisal on those close to us. And sometimes you have to lie. Sometimes, someone guess--"Aren't you really Spider-Man?"-- and you look them dead in the eye and say "Absolutely not" because you can justify a lie if lives are riding on it. Even as you fight for, as the saying goes, truth and justice... even if you're a lawyer who has sworn to live by the truth... you willingly bear false witness. When the Globe came after me, I lied to shield my friends . That's the truth. It's not the kind of excuse I'm looking forward to giving St. Peter-- a sin is a sin-- but maybe he'll understand. I hope so. But where I took it too far was in counterattacking the Globe. That wasn't me shielding anyone or dismissing a perceived danger. That wasn't an act of integrity. That was me fighting to preserve a lie. Keep it alive. Give it power. That's different. That's not what we should be doing. My dad taught me better than that. I'm Daredevil. That's the truth.
Information is power, Frank. The drive holds more power than any one person should command. You don't know what damage you could do, even unintentionally. You've always targeted those you perceive as guilty. This would claim innocents as well. The answer is the same. The answer is no.
As a physician you save lives one at a time, but -- and I don't mean this in a boastul way -- I've saved this entire city in one fell swoop before. Thousands of lives in a heartbeat. Something to consider.
Matty, I wasn't fair to you, either. I think the reason I was so angry that you might not be dealing with your problems honestly and with courage is because I... I need that from you right now. I need you to be the one who can teach me how to do all that.
You were dealing with a chemical imbalance. Maggie, I've defended clients with perinatal issues. Yours was extreme, but ten persent on new mothers struggle with it on some level, maybe more. It's not their fault. You know that.
One bullet. One shot. One chance to stop me killing Dino Gnucci. It's time for that choice you were telling me about. You can't break loose in time. You haven't the space to throw the gun, maybe knock me off my aim. I've got my back to you. I'm wearing Kevlar. It's got to be a headshot.