I'm not choosing one of your paths, I'm making one of my own.

Hey.” [Leo] squeezed her hand, though Hazel sensed nothing romantic in the gesture. “Machines are designed to work.”
“Uh, what?”
“I figure the universe is basically like a machine. I don’t know who made it, if it was the Fates, or the gods, or capital-G God, or whatever. But it chugs along the way it’s supposed to most of the time. Sure, little pieces break and stuff goes haywire once in a while, but mostly . . . things happen for a reason. Like you and me meeting.”
“Leo Valdez,” Hazel marveled, “you’re a philosopher.

...you shouldn't try to carry a problem alone. But if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay.

Getting a second life is one thing. Making a better life, that's the trick.

Schist," said an angry voice from the grass. Hazel raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?" "Schist! Big pile of schist!

Nico and Hazel exchanged looks. They both knew better, but they said nothing.