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: Are you an atheist? Harry Angel
: Yeah, I'm from Brooklyn.
: Alas... how terrible is wisdom when it brings no profit to the wise, Johnny?
: You know what they say about slugs. They always leave slime in their tracks.
: The flesh is weak, Johnny. Only the soul is immortal.
] Louis Cyphre
: And yours belongs to ME.
: They say there's enough religion in the world to make men hate each other, but not enough to make them love.
: No matter how cleverly you sneak up on a mirror, your reflection always looks you straight in the eye.
: I have old-fashioned ideas about honour. An eye for an eye... stuff like that.
: She was doing my chart. I gave her Johnny's birthdate, February 14th. Except someone got to her and took out their own Valentine card. They split her open, and they cut out her heart. I guess she couldn't predict the future for herself. Louis Cyphre
: The future isn't whay it used to be Mr. Angel.
: You're crazy. I know who I am. You're trying to frame me. You're trying to frame me. Cyphre, I know who I am. You murdered them people. I never killed nobody. I didn't kill Fowler, and... and I didn't kill Toots, and I didn't kill Margaret, and I didn't kill Krusemark, I didn't kill no-one! Louis Cyphre
: I'm afraid you did, Johnny. Harry Angel
: My name's not Johnny! Louis Cyphre
: All killed by your own hand. Guided by me naturally. Frankly, you were doomed from the moment you slit that young boy in half, Johnny... for twelve years you've been living on borrowed time and another men's memories. Harry Angel
: Hey I wanna tell Winesap cause he knows. Louis Cyphre
: Winesap? Oh he's dead. Nasty accident. Don't worry. No-one will mourn one less lawyer in the world - there's death everywhere these days Johnny. But what gives human life its worth... anyway? Because someone loves it, hates it? The flesh is weak, Johnny. Only the soul is immortal. And yours belongs to ME.
: You know, some religions think that the egg is the symbol of the soul, did you know that? Harry Angel
: No, I didn't know that. Louis Cyphre
: Would you like an egg? Harry Angel
: No thank you, I got a thing about chickens.
[Louis takes a bit out of an egg with a dangerous look on his face
] Louis Cyphre
: Johnny. Johnny. Johnny.
: Mephistopheles can be a mouthful in Manhattan, Johnny.