“The falcon’s beak carries bits of me, myself,” the desert said. “For years, I care for his game, feeding it with the little water that I have, and then I show him where the game is. And, one day, as I enjoy the fact that his game thrives on my surface, the falcon dives out of the sky, and takes away what I’ve created.”

“I stretched out my hands as if to ward him off. “Not yet. I want to know what your end game is first.” Another flash of teeth, this time showing his fangs. “To have you screaming my name within the hour.”

“Life is a game, boy. Life is a game that one plays according to the rule."Yes, sir. I know it is. I know it."Game, my ass. Some game. If you get on the side where all the hot-shots are, then it's a game, all right-I'll admit that. But if you get on the other side, where there aren't any hot-shots, then what's a game about it? Nothing. No game.”

“He cared less, so they cared more. He said it was beautiful. I knew he was broken.This was his game.”

“Bond believes we are his pawns. He thinks no-one observes his game. But I am No-One. I observe everything, and to play with Nemo is to play games with Destruction.”

“Game over," you say, and I don't know which I take more exception to-- the fact that you say its over, or the fact that you say it's a game.”