There is something rotten inside of me. I find it near impossible to drown out the constant cacophony of voices whispering in my ear, telling me "I. Am. Evil." [shouts] I'm drowning, Doctor! And I can't stop asking myself... [gasping]... Why do I hate myself so much?!?
[to Willy the Sausage Prince (who resembles Dan in Lucifer's retelling)] Quite a unique fellow, aren't you? There's a word to describe you, but I can't quite put my finger on it. It's like a shower, but French. Oh, I'm sure it'll come to me.
Well, obviously you felt the need to exercise your limited powers and punish me for ignoring the speed limit. It's okay, I understand. It's…I…I like to punish people too. Or, at least I used to.
Oh, right. Okay. Let me just, uh…check my calendar. Yeah, here it is. Uh…the 7th of Never through to the 15th of Ain't Gonna Happen. How's that work for you guys? Ah, look…remind Dad that I quit Hell because I was sick and tired of playing a part in His play.
Thank you. Thank you but, lately I've been doing a fair amount of thinking, now do you think I'm the devil because I'm inherently evil just because dear old Dad decided I was?
What exactly do you think happens when the devil leaves Hell? All of those demons, all of those tormented and tortured souls, where do you think they go?
Lucifer
Don't know, don't care, not my problem brother, so consider the position officially open (takes a sip of his drink) and you my feathered friend can go to Hell (Amenadiel draws his wing at Lucifer's neck) Oh...Yeah try it, you think father's upset now?
Why don't you tell me something? How did she end up dying in a hailstorm of bullets and you get away without a scratch? I think that's interesting, don't you?
No, not in the slightest. I just hate your music. And when I say your music, I mean your music, not the music made by other black people. Without the blues, there would be no Devil's music whatsoever. There are of course many giants in the field. Just not you. Am I being clear?