Arthur Claypool: Stealing a car, almost dying... it reminds me of the old days at MIT, Harold.
Finch’s Father: Well, if anyone can do it, it's you. The world spins on dreamers like you, Harold.
Reese: Nothing wrong with jail. Some of the best vacations I've ever had were behind bars.
Fusco: You're a peach, you know that?
Reese: No offense, Lionel. I know the whole "being a good guy" thing is new to you. But you're not fooling anyone, and neither will we. We weren't helping people. We were delaying the inevitable.
Fusco: Nobody said we were gonna win, but it doesn't mean you stop fighting.
Reese: No, I've learned my lesson. It's entropy, Lionel, decay. We save someone, they're still lose, just tomorrow, not today. And I know that now, same as I know you'll probably go back to be a corrupt piece of garbage. Water finds its level.
Finch: We need an escape route, but you have to be careful. I urge you to consider what Mr. Reese would do.
Finch: As you've said, you're a hammer. Mr. Reese is a scalpel. This requires a bit more finesse.
Sam: Well, I've got finesse coming out of my ass, Harold.
Finch: This plan feels rather reckless.
Sam: There's a time for a scalpel and a time for a hammer. It's hammer time.
Finch: End this. Destroy the drives.
Arthur Claypool: No. This is life... or as close as we mortals come to saying, "Let there be light."
Finch: It is extraordinary, and it is beautiful. So are mushroom clouds, in their own ways.
Arthur Claypool: Your Machine--is it wonderful?
Finch: Wonderful... yes, and terrible. We saved good people and lost good people. In the end, I'm afraid we've only given the deck a shuffle.
Arthur Claypool: Everything slides toward chaos. Your creation, it brings us poor souls a cupful of order. Your child is a dancing star.
Finch: It's not my child, it's a machine.
Arthur Claypool: A false dichotomy. It's all electricity. Does it make you laugh? Does it make you weep?
Arthur Claypool: What's more human?
Sam: Lionel, your face looks good all covered up like that.