“I am Nico Di Angelo, son of Hades. I control the shadows. They do not control me.”

“You will suffer, son of Hades!’
What else is new? Nico thought.”

“The coach could do a goat-hoof tap dance around Nico’s head and the son of Hades wouldn’t even budge.”

“Will Solace sighed. He was, of course, tied to Nico. He propped his elbow on Nico’s shoulder as if the son of Hades were a convenient shelf.”

“I am the son of Hades. I go where I wish. The darkness is my birthright.”

“Child of Hades, what more could I do to you? You are perfect! So much sorrow and pain!’ Nico gasped. His eyes flew open.”

“We need music," Nico said. "How's your singing?"
"Um, no. Can't you just, like, tell it to open? You're the son of Hades and all."
"It's not so easy. We need music."
I was pretty sure if I tried to sing, all I would cause was an avalanche.”

“I am a contributing creator of American civilization; it does not create me. I control the stem of this civilization that is within my reach; it does not control me. It can not even make me read Spengler, if I'd rather read a pulp magazine.”

“Control is necessary and even good—so long as I do the controlling.”

“Getting some redecorating ideas?’ Nico asked. ‘Maybe you could do your dining room in mediaeval monk skulls.’
Hades arched an eyebrow. ‘I can never tell when you’re joking.”