I’ve learned…that it doesn’t matter what the story is, some things never change…sometimes I fall in battle. Sometimes I die hugely, bravely, saving the city from something that would destroy it. Sometimes it’s a small, ironic, unnoticed death— I die rescuing a child from a fire, or tackling a frightened pickpocket.
The end of the story of Batman is, he’s dead. Because, in the end, the Batman dies. What else am I going to do? Retire and play golf? It doesn’t work that way. It can’t. I fight until I drop. And I will drop.
But until then, I fight.