Sometimes you have to do something ugly so that something beautiful can grow.

When it's my time, and the reaper calls my name, there will be no stink of fear on me, and my only wish will be to die with grace, covered in the blood of my enemies.

She watched as the dancing lights of madness swirled and flickered in his eyes like the fires of hell, and she knew that there would never be anything that could quench those fires except death. Vanessa knew that Jango had become his own Grim Reaper.

I'm a man born to blood and pain, and peace would be a killing blow for me.

The nurse snorted, and said. “All men are pigs.” “Not all men.” Jango said. “Some of the men are zombies.

When she had died, his anchor was gone and the world had burned from his untethered insanity.

Spittle flew from Jango’s lips as he shouted at the man in a woman’s voice that sounded like it was made of cyanide and sugar that had been laced with the patter of blood dripping on an abattoir floor, “This is the truth about The Killer, ain’t it baby? You’re just a big ol’ bag of screams under all that big, bad muscle, ain’t you?

I once fed a dog-fight operator to the dogs he had abused for so long, and do you want to know something? It felt so good. It was justice, girl. The fucking law never gave a shit about a victim, but justice is all heart.

It ain’t how hard you are when you’re standing over top of someone that really matters. It’s how hard you are when someone’s standing over top of you that shows what you’re made of.

The final entity was the beast. The steel juggernaut that raked claws made of screams along the bones of their soul.All of the pain that Jango had endured as a child had never left his mind. That pain had created a sort of primordial ooze in his fractured mind that sloshed and bled until the beast was birthed from the suffering. The beast lived in a cage forged of willpower deep in the recesses of the mad matrix of his splintered mind. It rattled the cage and roared for release, but he was loath to ever set the beast loose…again.

I have to get stronger, harder, and faster. The only way to get hard enough to walk the Apocalypse Road is in the crucible of battle.

I promise not to hurt you, unless you try to take my shit. Then I'll twist your head off and hide it in a bush somewhere.

If you can cut the head off of this broom-goober with that sword, then I'll believe you can gank zombies with it.