"I like riddles, because getting them right sets me apart from everyone else. They can't solve them, but I can. It feels great. You'd like it too."
"I've noticed that people are always trying to find an answer to every question, as if they were riddles. But most of the time, they either can't find the answer or refuse to believe it. It's not like riddles, where the answer is certain. I feel sorry for them."
"If I see a riddle, I know it must have an answer. Then I don't have to look at all those other questions that might not have answers. It makes me feel relaxed and happy."
"But they say I can't go on like this forever. Someday, I'll have to face the questions that can't be answered. Maybe that's true. But at least for now, I can give every riddle a perfect answer."
Schiller was not at all surprised by those words, or by the artistry and philosophy contained within them. Gotham's madmen were always like this. They were the most rationally insane people in the world.
Though Schiller did not want to, he still said,
"What if all the questions you don't want to face have the same answer?"
Edward turned to look at him. "Impossible. Different riddles have different answers. Those questions can't all have only one answer."
"Riddles are designed, their purpose being to present different answers. But life and society are different. They evolved naturally, like a river ultimately flowing in one direction."
"What is it?"
"Death."
The shifting light from the movie made Schiller's profile look somewhat somber. He continued, "The problems you saw in Cobblepot and his mother were really all the same problem—how to face death."
"Is death a question or an answer?" Edward looked confused. "You said