He’s not like you, Tod. Aside from a couple of notable exceptions, you tend to think things through, but Nash is ruled by his heart—

I’d learned that my mother was a badass in disguise. She was Van Helsing in an apron and heels, and—at least for the time being—I couldn’t think of a single thing cooler than that.

"I spent two hours trying to question reapers without sounding like I was questioning them. What do you think it says about us as a group, that every reaper I know is either irritable, egotistical, voyeuristic, or some combination of the three?" "That you fit in well?"

There's pressure, but that's true no matter who you are or what you do.

That's because Tod never brings anything but death and bad advice," I snapped. "That's not true." Tod tried to grin, "Sometimes I bring pizza.

I've seen this episode. This is the one where Sylvester eats Tweety.

I got swirling eyes and the capacity to shatter windows with my bare voice. Tod got teleportation and invisibility. The supernatural world is so far from fair.