Moon Shadow

American Gods 2×8

Mr. World: People... like the idea... that love makes the world go round. It doesn't. You don't lock your doors at night because you love thy neighbor; you deadbolt with reinforced steel because you fear thy neighbor. Fear is order. Fear is control. Fear is... safety. Fear is... fiction.

Mr. World: Before this moment, people in America did not conceive of what an alien spacecraft might look like. They did not believe an alien attack could happen. What made it real... was the fear that it could exist, and the fact that it was feared so deeply meant that it did exist.

Mr. World: Fear is the product of the imagination. It's made up in the mind. The mind can dream and think of anything. You love fear. You love horror. You pay money... for a pair of three-dimensional glasses... and popcorn... for an hour and a half of anxiety.

Mr. World: Fear has no end. Fear is limitless. Fear thrives and feeds on itself, preparing you for calamity, preparing you to believe... that the most important things... are the most dangerous.

Mr. World: If it's real in your mind, it's real in the world.

Mr. World: The more you believe... the more you believe.

Laura Moon: I... I am not my mistakes, Shadow.

Shadow Moon: It doesn't matter. "Sorry" doesn't change anything.

Laura Moon: I'm gonna kill Wednesday. Are you gonna try and stop me?
Shadow Moon: Free country.

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CEO: Science is the closest we come to wrestling God.
Technical Boy: Why would you want to... wrestle God?
CEO: Because we were made in his image and... I wanna see if we can... match up.

Queen Bilquis: You know what they say about revenge... Dig two graves.

Laura Moon: I just know an I'd-like-to-punch-that-guy-in-the-mouth look when I see one.

Technical Boy: What do you think happens... when you touch a God?
CEO: I don't know. Uh... Like Michelangelo. Flash of light, maybe.
Technical Boy: Like the Sistine Chapel... That's good.

Technical Boy: You. Are. Not, Made in God's image. We are made in yours... With all your flaws. Greed. Hubris.

Technical Boy: Harness me. My only limit is your imagination. Which is a problem. You should work on that.

Technical Boy: Hey... you know what fuels imagination? Fear.

Mr. Ibis: I strongly recommend, my young friend, you view the news through the smoky glass of skepticism, and remember: all writers have a bias.

Mr. Ibis: This is chess. Not a revolution.
Mr. Nancy: ♪ White girl problems ♪
    ♪ She pay a muthafucka to solve 'em ♪
    Brown girl... solutions. It's gonna take a revolution.

The Jinn: What he knows is of little importance. It's what he does that matters.
Mr. Ibis: Oh, Sisyphus. I do hope you manage to get that rock up that hill.
The Jinn: You know me. Eyes of fire. Shit for brains. Salam aleykum, old friend...
Mr. Ibis: Till death do you part...
The Jinn: Sarcasm and death. What a motherfucker.

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