“Two weird people sitting weirdly explaining weird bits of deduction was, Misora worried, a scene of overwhelming weirdosity. (pg. 87, DEATHNOTE: Another Note, The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases)”

“Naomi Misora, are you familiar with the murder investigation going in Los Angeles as we speak?"[...]"I am not so skilled that I can keep track of all the murder investigations happening in Los Angeles.""Oh? I am."He'd returned her sarcasm with a boast.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. In case that anyone besides big-headed Near or the deluded murderer is reading these notes, then I shall at least perform the basic courtesy of introducing myself, here at the end of the prologue, I am your narrator, your navigator, your storyteller. For anyone else but those two, my identity may be of no interest to you, but I am the world's runner-up, the best dresser that died like a dog, Mihael Keehl. I once called myself Mello and was addressed by that name, but that was a long time ago.Good memories and nightmares.”

“Essentially, people live in one of two ways. Either they live in awareness of their own worthlessness, or they live in their awareness of the worthlessness of the world. Two ways. Either you allow your value to be absorbed by the world, or you chisel away at the world's value and make it your own. Which should take precedence, the value of the world your own value?”

“The century's greatest detective, advertised as solving every case imaginable. How great his burden must be, how much pain must he go through every single moment: past, present, and future... A burden so great it would leave you hunched over. A bitter taste in your mouth that would leave you longing for sweets.-M”

“People can smile even when terrified.”

“Every mystery novel I ever read, the great detective was such an arrogant fuck you could replace 70% of his dialogue with 'Are you stupid?' and the conversation would still make sense.”