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I think it's safe to say we're in Murderworld. Which is another way of saying that someone wants us dead. And is willing to pay Arcade to make it happen in the most warped way possible.
You keep waiting for the dust to settle and then you realize this is it; the dust is your life going on. If happy comes along -- that weird unbearable delight that's actually happy -- I think you have to grab it while you can. You take what you can get, 'cause it's here, and then... gone.
This is my power! My mutant power! To passa through solid objects! Now I know! Passing through obstacles. Passing through the new. With the X-Men! In the service of another. Ready or not, here I come!
My partner here and I have helped save the world at least twice! So a gang of street thugs is really no great big deal. Thanks for worrying, though. That's sweet.
Pretty stupid, huh? Sneaking into your house, thinking that if Doug...Douglock saw your old room, it would...would snap him out of it. But it isn't your room anymore. It's a den. Your parents turned your old room into a den... They knew. They knew you were...gone. They'd dealt with their grief and gone on with their lives... There's pictures of you all over that room... But it's not your room anymore... Goodbye, Doug... Ahh geez, it hurts like he...all get-out, saying that...snf...but it's a good hurt...y'know?
Now I'm thinking Drax was right. We found out the guy is into everything... species trafficking, weapons... we should have finished him when we had the chance.
I've been back less than a day, but it seems everyone is asking themselves the same question, what's next? But that's a good thing. Because the difficult choices you've all had to make have given Mutantkind the greatest gift possible. A future. And now it's our job to grow that future into a legacy. One that takes Professor Xavier's dream and builds on it. That protects the world. Protects our own. And protects the people we care about.[citation needed]
The family of blood is fate. Nothing we can do about that. It's what happens next that matters: the path through life we choose to take... the family of friends we choose to make along the way.
[Nightcrawler] had every reason to be bitter, every excuse to become as much of a demon inside and out. But he decided he'd rather learn to laugh instead! I hope I can be half the person he is. And if I have to choose between caring for my friend and believing in your God... then I choose... m-my friend!
Wolverine knows what he did was wrong. Just don't expect to hear him admit it. You know how he can be. "He knows what he knows and he don't back down."
If we're to learn anything from Larry's death, it should be this... You want to know who I am? I'm Katherine Pryde. That's the only thing that matters. The rest are just labels.
Rachel --in the future you remember, by the time you were old enough to know your family, they'd all been killed. This is your chance to catch up with everything you missed out on
Do it, then! Go on! I'll let you! I won't take responsibility for your choices. Not again. You kill me, you prove me right. You prove you're a coward-- --who'd rather be an animal than face his fear. Coward.
Maybe I'll never have a normal life, but as long as people are afraid of mutants -- as long as people like Asher are afraid of themselves -- I know where I belong. I'm an X-Man because I don't want the world to be like this. I want it to be better. So I'm going to make it better. Just watch me.
You've never exactly trusted us, and I know things are different after our war with the Inhumans. I know that. And I know that to the extent that you ever trusted us, we have a long way to go to rebuild that trust. But we're starting today.
Part of me feels as old as time itself. That's what reached out to Remy, that's what he responded to. But he was man enough to pull me back from that mistake. To show me a line I shouldn't cross. I'm so afraid if I ever step over that, I lose everything.
There are rules, what you're supposed to do the first day after a loved one dies...then the first week...then the first month...all the way to the first year, the first Yartzeit. The idea, I guess, is that it's supposed to take that whole year to come to terms with the loss. So the Yartzeit, it's closure, but it's more. Because when someone you love dies, it never goes away. Some days are easier than others. Some days maybe you can't think about it at all...but it never goes away. And that's all right. That's as it should be...
First I can't get over the fact that they purposely made Wolverine... and now I can't get over the fact that after they saw what Wolverine turned out like, they thought it might be a good idea to clone him into a teenage girl.
Makes sense actually, when you think about it. Surrounded by telepaths, the most important thing in the world becomes your privacy. Keeping secrets becomes second-nature.
Who was he then, that we gather to mourn him? Who am I? A four-eyed, flat-chested, brat, chick, brain, Hebe, stuck-up Xavier's snob freak! Don't like the words? I could use nicer. I've heard worse. who here hasn't? So often, so casually, that maybe we've forgotten the power they have to hurt. Nigger, Spic, Wop, Slope, Faggot, Mutie -- The list is so long and so cruel. They're labels, put-downs. And they hurt. But usually we laugh it off or hit back -- with words of our own, or fists -- or we suffer in silence. No big deal, this is the rough edge of reality, right? Why make a fuss? Trouble was, when someone labeled Larry Bodine a "mutie", they hit home -- because he was. His power created beauty. That's it. He did with light and color what Mozart did with music. And he wanted nothing more than to be accepted by his peers, and possibly even liked -- and isn't that what any of us really want? To have friends, people to care for us? Not to be alone? If we're lucky we have someone to turn to.
I'm Jewish. I'm also a woman, an American and a Cubs fan. All of which make me a minority and an object of hatred somewhere in the world. But this is college. Here, none of that's supposed to matter! Except for that bit about the Cubs.
The first time I ever met the X-Men, the first day...they were ambushed. And captured. And caged. By you. I learned more about good and evil in that one day than I ever have before or since. I was thirteen. When I think about evil, whenever I think about the concept of evil, yours in the face that I see. I don't have to "watch you", Miss Frost. I can smell you.
Everything is so fragile. There's so much conflict, so much pain...you keep waiting for the dust to settle and then you realize this it; the dust is your life going on. If happy comes along--the unbearable delight that's actual happy--I think you have to grab it while you can. You take what you can get, 'cause it's here, and then...gone.
I think it's safe to say we're in Murderworld. Which is another way of saying that someone wants us dead. And is willing to pay Arcade to make it happen in the most warped way possible. 
