[About Mark Waid's run on The Flash] Now, six years later, he'd returned to DC as a writer, bent on restoring a sense of joyous, inventive acceleration to the adventures of the Flash. His stories were never less than ingenious, with old-school heart-stopping climaxes, genuine romance, and a dozen never-before-seen tricks in every issue. They were the inheritors of the Julius Schwartz tradition, heartfelt bulletin from a southern geek with the steel-trap mind of a lawyer and the faraway eyes of a Silver Age boyhood never quit outgrown. Superheroes had been Waid's best friends, and there was no way he would allow them to become grizzled antiheroes, reduced to snapping spines or endlessly justifying themselves. He gave Wally West, the one-time Kid Flash, a piece of his own soul that turned a B-list sidekick into a rounded, sympathetic young protagnist who you could root for easily. As the Flash had rescued superhero comics from the dead darkness of the fifties, he was here again to jump-start a new age of recapitulation, restoration, and Renaissance.
« Truth, Justice, and the American Way », Supergods, Grant Morrison