I don’t know much about psychoanalysis, but I don’t believe that we can blame our actions on our upbringings. If we could, then nobody would be responsible for anything they do.
Do you know what they're called? They're the Shadows That Live, Zuze. They're assassins." "Like me," said Zuzanna cheerfully.
The silence, she thought, was remarkable: a perfect, shimmering thing, and fragile. Like glass, if it shattered, it would never come back together again.
I am opposed to Naperville. It's all cute, trendy and expensive, and filled with cookie-cutter Borg houses that assimilate you into upper-middle-class America.
This was...This was sickeningly different. It was blind, unreasoning hate that just wanted blood and she didn't understand why. It left her feeling horrified and shaky.
It’s Big Brother with werewolves. Live coverage for a month, leading up to a group kill on full moon.
My point," Jason said, "is that blaming each other isn't going to solve anything. That's how the Romans and the Greeks got divided in the first place.
Nico found a sort of freedom in knowing that eventually, no matter what happened, he would end up at the foot of his father’s throne.
Jason’s heart lifted when he saw Nico di Angelo on the front lines with the Greeks, slashing his way through a crowd of two-headed men.
He'd gone from sixteen to seventy-five in a matter of seconds, but the old-man smell happened instantly, like boom. Congratulations! You stink!
As for Percy, he held his magic ballpoint pen like he was trying to decide whether to bust out some sword moves or autograph Nike’s chariot.
Oh, come on!’ Percy complained. ‘I get a little nosebleed and I wake up the entire earth? That’s not fair!
Percy grunted. ‘Probably something to do with that creep Octavian. Maybe he was so bad at telling the future that he broke Apollo’s powers.
Percy hefted a bronze grenade. ‘I hope you labelled these right.’ He yelled, ‘Die, Romans!’ and lobbed the grenade over the wall.
Also … the plan sounded exactly like the sneaky, twisted, ridiculously annoying and noble sort of thing Leo Valdez would do.
She hated money! though she knew it was like blood and you needed it. Still, it was also like blood in that she often couldn't stand the sight of it.
You don't even realize you're living in a before until you wake up one day and find yourself in an after.
Even now, I believe that to know how is useless if we do not know why. And there are too many who forbid us to ask.
Do you have a lot of other profound thoughts like that? Blood is blood? A toaster is a toaster? A Gelatinous Cube is a Gelatinous Cube?
Blood is like water, to a vampire. And coffee is like blood, to a tired mosquito. And my love is like an itch—and a scratch.
Yesterday I donated blood. It wasn’t my blood—I found it in a discarded tampon.
