“In fact, I've essentially given up on the idea of flight altogether and accepted that I'm going to be an angel-blood who stays earthbound, a flightless bird, like an ostrich. Maybe, or in this weather, a penguin.”

“Angela says that angel-bloods are supposed to be immune to cold. It helps with the flying at high altitudes, I guess." I shiver again. "I must not have gotten the memo." He smiles. "Maybe that power only applies to mature angel-bloods." "Hey, are you calling me immature?" "Oh no," he says, his smile blossoming into a full-blown grin. "I wouldn't dare." "Good. Because I'm not the one peeping into someone else's window.”

“I'm tired of this 'we better lay low, or someone will figure out we're different' crap. I mean, it's not like if I win a match people are going to say, who's that kid, he's a really good wrestler, he must be an angel.”

“I wonder if the prayers of angel-bloods count more than regular people's.”

“Can we go somewhere?" I ask. "Let's go somewhere off in the woods and I'll show you."He hesitates, of course. What if I'm an alien invader trying to lure him to a secluded place so I can suck his brains out? Or a vampire, ravenous for his blood?"I won't hurt you." Be not afraid.His eyes flash with anger like I've come right out and called him a chicken."Okay." His jaw tightens. "But I drive.""Of course.”

“Tucker: I'm glad it happened. because then I got to know who you really are.Clara: Oh yeah? Who am I? Tucker: A really, really spiritual, spoiled California chick.Avery: Shut up.Tucker: It's cool though. My girlfriend is an angel.”

“She watched you wrestle Toby Jameson, who probably weighs two hundred pounds, without even working up a sweat. And she said to herself, wow, that's a good wrestler, he must be an angel.”