“This is black superhero music right here, baby!”
“Whoa,” a stunned voice said, whistling a row below me. “You’re the girl Jude Ryder’s going to marry and make baby superheroes with?”
“The cowboy music twanged in the roadhouse and carried across the fields, all sadness. It was all right with me. I kissed my baby and we put out the lights.”
“At the opera, the music makes no sense; here in the street it has just the right demented touch to give it poignancy.”
“And he wonders if maybe Nina is right; if a superhero is nothing but an ordinary person who believes that she cannot fail.”
“Jesus Christ-" "Is Not here right now," the man in black replied,"and even if he were, he could not save you.”