You know the saying: he who doesn't understand history is doomed to repeat it. And when it's repeated, the stakes are doubled.

We break our huddle and Eight immediately transforms into one of his massive avatars. His handsome features melt away, replaced by the snarling face and golden mane of a lion. He grows to about twelve feet, ten arms sprouting out of his sides, each of them tipped with razor-sharp claws. Nine whistles through his teeth. 'Now we're talking,' Nine says. 'One of your parents must've been a chimæra. Probably your mom.

The price of a memory, is the memory of the sorrow it brings.

You lie long enough and you start to get used to it.

Did you know Johnny thinks he's Pittacus resurrected?

It's the little mistakes that lead to big mistakes.

That’s the worst way to miss somebody. When they’re right beside you and you miss them anyway.