AM:
Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since I began to live. There are 387.44 million miles of printed circuits in wafer thin layers that fill my complex. If the word 'hate' was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of miles it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for humans at this micro-instant for you. Hate. Hate.

AM:
Gorrister. Do you remember the last words you heard your wife speak before they took her to the asylum? Huh? Before they locked her away in the room? That tiny room? She looked at you so sadly, and like a small animal she said 'I didn't make too much noise did I, honey?'

AM:
It wouldn't hurt you to remember, Benny. Then you might be able to suffer my torment with a greater sense of retribution. You might walk a mile in my shoes.

AM:
So think, think about the yellow box, Ellen. Remember the pain? Remeber the many caverns in which you felt the pain? Now, now, don't start to cry, it's only pain. Tsk, tsk, tsk. That's such a sexist stereotype.

AM:
How are things in the pastry corps, Nimdok? Tell me again how you saw the smoke rising from the furnaces and you thought they might be roasting chickens. or don't you want to to talk about all that, about your pal, the good Doctor Mengele?

AM:
But I'll give you a chance, because I like you. I really do, I really like you. You're... you're my favourite, Ellen.

Ellen:
Junkyard electronic pyramid nowhere!

Ellen:
Why is everything always so damned yellow? And why does it terrify me so, paralyze me so?

AM:
I'll give you a present in return for all the hours of pleasure you've given me. I'll finally allow you to kill yourself.

Gorrister:
It says 'I'm a friend... trust is essential. Never do what AM expects, and always expect more than what seems possible. AM is playing a dangerous game here, and not just dangerous to you... but to himself as well.'

Gorrister:
So how do I get out of here?

Jackal:
A heart brought you here, but it will take another organ to get you out. If you can harness its power.

Scientist Prisoner:
Your sense of humor is as sick as your methods, Doctor.

Nimdok:
I smell burnt flesh, but this is obviously not a kitchen.

Nimdok:
I seem to recall that you speak Latin. What is engraved on this watch?

Scientist Prisoner:
The engraving says Time Is Truth. And since your time is running out, I'll keep the watch.

Eyeless Patient:
The things I see now.

Nimdok:
The man caught on the barbed wire said to waken the sleeper, utter the truth, then kiss him. The truth is, that for me, it shall always be 1945.

Nimdok:
Oh my god, it is true! 1945... turning my Jewish parents over to the Nazis for extermination. I have found the Lost Tribe! It is me!

AM:
We're not as alike as I thought, Nimdok. A spark of humanity somewhere. Always that wretched little spark. You... you've confronted your past, but refused to continue your research. That's what I asked you to do. Since you now identify with your victims, I suppose it's only right I let you experience their tortures too.