“God picks up the reed-flute world and blows.Each note is a need coming through one of us,a passion, a longing pain.Remember the lipswhere the wind-breath originated,and let your note be clear.Don't try to end it.Be your note.”

“I hope you haven’t packed those ratty flannel pajamas of yours,” she said. “You probably won’t need anything to sleep in, anyhow.”Elle stood up, picked up a pad of Post-it notes from the desk, and threw it.“He’s broken all to bits. Give it up. He’s an invalid!”Carlie laughed as the note pad bounced off the door frame.“He’s a cowboy, honey. Nothin’ ever keeps them down for long.”

“Your powers drain you too much,' [Percy] noted.[Nico] nodded sleepily. 'With great power...comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later.”

“The streets are empty. Wind skims the voids keeping neighbors apart, as if grazing the hollow of a cut reed, or say, a plundered mailbox. A familiar note is produced. It's the one Desolation plays to keep its instrument in tune.”

“Note to self; try to act normal when coming in contact with the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. Note. Mouth closing and drool sucked back in and hopefully not noticed. Check.”

“I have notes in my bathroom, yellow notes, and I stick 'em on the mirror, things that happened that were uplifting boosters for me. Notes that say, "Today is special, make today count." And then I have one note on the mirror in the middle that says, "Look at the other notes.”