Why, Ms. Sparkle? Why, why? Why do you do it? Why, why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you’re fighting… for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Could it be for Friendship? Illusions, Ms. Sparkle. Vagaries of perception. Temporary constructs of a feeble pony intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as Equestria itself, although… only a pony mind could invent something as insipid as friendship. You must be able to see it, Ms. Sparkle. You must know it by now. You can’t win. It’s pointless to keep fighting. Why, Ms. Sparkle? Why? Why do you persist?
Twilight: How about, I give you the finger, and you give me my phone call.
Agent Trixie: Tell me, Ms. Sparkle, what good is a phone call when you are unable to speak?
Because M.A. Larson tells me to.
Agent Trixie: Tell me, Ms. Sparkle, what good is a phone call when you are unable to speak?