Best Quotes from Mr Robot

Read my collection of favorite quotes from True Detective

I’m good at reading people. My secret, I look for the worst in them.

Is that what God does? He helps? Tell me, why didn’t God help my innocent friend who died for no reason while the guilty roam free? Okay, fine. Forget the one-offs. How about the countless wars declared in his name? Okay, fine. Let’s skip the random, meaningless murder for a second, shall we? How about the racist, sexist, phobia soup we’ve all been drowning in because of Him? And I’m not just talking about Jesus. I’m talking about all organized religion, exclusive groups created to manage control, a dealer getting people hooked on the drug of hope, his followers nothing but addicts who want their hit of bull*** to keep their dopamine of ignorance, addicts afraid to believe the truth, that there is no order, there’s no power, that all religions are just metastasizing mind worms meant to divide us so it’s easier to rule us by the charlatans that want to run us. All we are to them are paying fanboys of their poorly written sci-fi franchise. If I don’t listen to my imaginary friend, why the f*** should I listen to yours? People think their worship’s some key to happiness. That’s just how he owns you. Even I’m not crazy enough to believe that distortion of reality. So f**God. He’s not a good enough scapegoat for me

So let me see if I got this. You wanna get into real estate. Is that it? Is that what all this is about? Is that really your groundbreaking epiphany here? No. That can’t really be it, is it? In your word salad, I heard something about drug dealing. Thing is, Pfizer and Eli are a few billion ahead of you, and they can buy your death with the same half-cent it costs them to make a pill. You wanna get into billboards? Download Photoshop. Make yourself a cute portfolio. Stores, with the debt everyone’s in, I’m sure they’ll gladly give them to you, in which case, you’ll just be owned by their banks. Trains are even more bankrupt, and don’t even get me started on the NYPD. Even that blunt you wanna roll is gonna be marked up by Big Tobacco itself. Point is, this city is one big, fat credit card bill, and you wanna pay it, all so you can, what, be another suit with a mortgage?

A bug is never just a mistake. It represents something bigger. An error of thinking. That makes you who you are.

Power belongs to the people that take it. Nothing to do with their hard work, strong ambitions, or rightful qualifications, no. The actual will to take is often the only thing that’s necessary

I don’t like morning people or mornings or people.

He’s shutting down, compartmentalizing the pain, living in the distraction, just like the holidays: the fake Santas, the plastic trees, the annoying Christmas carols… One big song-and-dance production to sell ourselves the theater that everything’s jolly, at least for a moment. But when it’s all over, Santa’s gone back to his s*ty day job. The trees get disassembled and thrown in a closet. The music’s faded away. What then?

There it is. That sense of dread. It only happens when you cross a line you didn’t even know existed. Maybe that dread is a good thing. After all, when you realize you’ve crossed a line, that means you still had one. But when those crossed lines are all behind you, up ahead is only darkness.

Getting information is one thing, but how it was created, where and by whom, can often be illuminating.

Daemons, they call them. They perform action without user interaction. Monitoring, logging, notifications. Primal urges, repressed memories, unconscious habits. They’re always there, always active. We can try to be right, we can try to be good. We can try to make a difference, but it’s all bullshit. ‘Cause intentions are irrelevant. They don’t drive us. Daemons do.

They won’t win. Because one good thing came out of all of this. They showed themselves, the top 1% of the 1%, the ones in control, the ones who play God without permission. And now I’m gonna take them down. All of them.

Blend in. Look bored, broken. Get a blank office stare on my face. This is how they do it, isn’t it? How they’re able to watch the world fall apart around them? Because to them, this is normal. It’s all they know.

“Do you dream, Elliot? You scraping so hard like you ain’t ever asked yourself this before. I said, do you want to be here right now? And I don’t mean, like, here-here, but I mean here in a cosmic sense, bro. Like, existence could be beautiful, or it could be ugly, but that’s on you. If you like it, then it’s beautiful. If you don’t? Then you might as well fade the fuck out right now.”

The bug forces the software to adapt, evolve into something new because of it. Work around it or work through it. No matter what, it changes. It becomes something new. The next version. The inevitable upgrade.

What am i even doing here? I’m arriving at work. I’m walking towards my cubicle. I’m just an autopilot running my daily routine. Did my daily program crash? When code runs, it should run straight through, without any interruption until all of its task have been completed. Unless something goes wrong. A runtime error. Sometimes corrupted memory can lead to one. Is that what’s happening to me right now? A runtime error.

You don’t take down a conglomerate by shooting them in the heart. That’s the thing about conglomerates, they don’t have hearts. You take them down limb by limb. And as they unravel, their illusion of control unravels.

Give a man a gun and he can rob a bank, but give a man a bank, and he can rob the world.

Everyone has their own if/then conditional programming, a situation where if certain conditions are met, then a logic bomb detonates. Everything blows up in your face.

I’m a mercenary. I don’t play fair. I play what I want. When you deal with a mercenary, then all decorum gets tossed out the window, so you go ahead with your cute threats and your watch beeps. Order will not protect you anymore, my friend. I will rain chaos, even if it hurts me, ’cause I would rather see you lose than win myself.

This is the world we live in. People relying on each other’s mistakes to manipulate one another and use one another, even relate to one another. A warm, messy circle of humanity.

It’s one thing to question your mind. It’s another to question your eyes and ears. But then again, isn’t it all the same, our senses just mediocre inputs for our brain? Sure, we rely on them, trust they accurately portray the real world around us, but what if the haunting truth is, they can’t? That what we perceive isn’t the real world at all but just our mind’s best guess? That all we really have is a garbled reality, a fuzzy picture we will never truly make out.

There’s the cost of living and the cost of dying. Seems you’re paying the price whether you’re coming or going.

I’m an old man, Zhang. I gave up on foreplay long ago. Let’s just skip ahead to the part where you try to f** me.*

“Understand something, Mr. Alderson. After I leave this room, you will never see me again. There are very few people in my life who I make time to see more than once, and you are not one of them.”

“I’ve always found doors fascinating inventions. They hold the entry to unlimited imagination. Before you open any door, a world filled with possibilities sits right behind it. And it isn’t until you open it they are realized. Such potential they bring to our minds. And yet a lock kept you from all of that. How…lazy.”

Sure, there are grays… But when you come right down to it, at its core, beneath every choice, there’s either a one or a zero. You either do something or you don’t. You walk out that door, you’ve decided to do nothing, to say no, which means you do not come back. You leave, you are no longer a part of this. You become a zero. If you stay, if you want to change the world, you become a yes. You become a one. So, I’ll ask you again: are you a one or a zero?

I do see the beauty in the rules, the invisible code of chaos hiding behind the menacing face of order.

Time to grow up. There are no gods. Our closest deities are a society of the richest, most influential men in existence. Men who f*over the rest of us for profit, for fun, and then leave us in the streets for dead.

Is any of it real? I mean, look at this. Look at it! A world built on fantasy! Synthetic emotions in the form of pills, psychological warfare in the form of advertising, mind-altering chemicals in the form of food, brainwashing seminars in the form of media, controlled isolated bubbles in the form of social networks. Real? You want to talk about reality? We haven’t lived in anything remotely close to it since the turn of the century. We turned it off, took out the batteries, snacked on a bag of GMOs while we tossed the remnants in the ever-expanding dumpster of the human condition. We live in branded houses trademarked by corporations built on bipolar numbers jumping up and down on digital displays, hypnotizing us into the biggest slumber mankind has ever seen. You have to dig pretty deep, kiddo, before you can find anything real. We live in a kingdom of bull***, a kingdom you’ve lived in for far too long. So don’t tell me about not being real. I’m no less real than the f*****g beef patty in your Big Mac.*

A guy walks up to a woman at a bar. He flirts with her. He makes small talk, but the woman insists she isn’t gonna go home with him. Guy says, “What if I offer you a million dollars to sleep with me?” The woman’s never had a million dollars in her life. She stops and considers the offer very seriously. The guy changes his mind, says, “What if I change my offer to a dollar instead?” Woman is aghast. “What kind of woman do you think I am?” Guy says, “We already figured that out. Now we’re just negotiating.”

Control is about as real as a one-legged unicorn taking a leak at the end of a double rainbow.

We’re all living in each other’s paranoia

When I was a kid I got into web design by ripping off sites I liked. All you had to do was view source on your browser and there it was. The code. You could copy paste it, modify it a little, put your name on it, and like that, it was your site. View source. What if we had that for people? Would people really wanna see?

Don’t mistake my generosity for generosity

Isn’t that what history is all about? Politically, economically, geographically, imaginary lines being drawn and redrawn, over and over again?

They packaged a fight into product. Turned our dissent into intellectual property. Televising our revolution with commercial breaks. They backdoored into our minds and robbed our truth, refurbished the facts, then marked up the price. This is what they do. It’s what they’re good at. This is their greatest trick. Lobotomizing us into their virtual reality horror show.

I’ve never found it hard to hack most people. If you listen to them, watch them, their vulnerabilities are like a neon sign screwed into their heads

Is it that we collectively thought Steve Jobs was a great man, even when we knew he made billions off the backs of children? Or maybe it’s that it feels like all our heroes are counterfeit. The world itself’s just one big hoax. Spamming each other with our running commentary of bull*** masquerading as insight, our social media faking as intimacy. Or is it that we voted for this? Not with our rigged elections, but with our things, our property, our money. I’m not saying anything new, we all know why we do this, not because Hunger Games books makes us happy but because we wanna be sedated. Because it’s painful not to pretend, because we’re cowards. F*** society*