Maze Jackson Quotes

Promise me one thing. Whatever happens, when you get back to Olympus, when you’re a god again, remember. Remember what it’s like to be human.

Satyrs aren't dryads, but we have roots, too. Camp Half Blood is mine.

We sat in silence, listening to strange creaks and groans in the maze, the echo of stones grinding together as tunnels changed, grew, and expanded. The dark made me think about the visions I’d seen of Nico di Angelo, and suddenly I realized something.

Clarisse demolished a whole building with a wrecking ball, and the maze entrance just shifted a few feet.

You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze,” I remembered. “The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise. We raised a lot of the dead. We saved Ethan Nakamura, who turned out to be a traitor. We raised the spirit of Pan, the lost one.” Annabeth shook her head like she wanted me to stop. “You shall rise or fall by the ghost king’s hand,” I pressed on. “That wasn’t Minos, like I’d thought. It was Nico. By choosing to be on our side, he saved us. And the child of Athena’s final stand—that was Daedalus.” “Percy—” “Destroy with a hero’s final breath. That makes sense now. Daedalus died to destroy the Labyrinth. But what was the last—” “And lose a love to worse than death.” Annabeth

I get lost inside my own mind. At times, my mind is like a maze, and most of the time, I am afraid of my own thoughts.

You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze, the dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise. You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand, the Child of Athena's final stand. Destroy with a hero's final breath, and lose a love to worse than death.

Well I am here, I am at the heart, I have come through the maze--where is the secret I am to learn from my many agonies? Here I am, here I am, where is my reward? What have I earned, learned, spurned?

You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze . . .” We waited. “The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise.” Grover perked up. “The lost one! That must mean Pan! That’s great!” “With the dead and the traitor,” I added. “Not so great.” “And?” Chiron asked. “What is the rest?” “You shall rise or fall by the ghost king’s hand,” Annabeth said, “the child of Athena’s final stand.

Annabeth took a deep breath. “I, ah . . . well, it said, You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze . . .” We waited. “The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise.” Grover perked up. “The lost one! That must mean Pan! That’s great!” “With the dead and the traitor,” I added. “Not so great.” “And?” Chiron asked. “What is the rest?” “You shall rise or fall by the ghost king’s hand,” Annabeth said, “the child of Athena’s final stand.” Everyone looked around uncomfortably. Annabeth was a daughter of Athena, and a final stand didn’t sound good. “Hey . . . we shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Silena said. “Annabeth isn’t the only child of Athena, right?” “But who’s this ghost king?” Beckendorf asked. No one answered. I thought about the Iris-message I’d seen of Nico summoning spirits. I had a bad feeling the prophecy was connected to that. “Are there more lines?” Chiron asked. “The prophecy does not sound complete.” Annabeth hesitated. “I don’t remember exactly.” Chiron raised an eyebrow. Annabeth was known for her memory. She never forgot something she heard. Annabeth shifted on her bench. “Something about . . . Destroy with a hero’s final breath.

Asterion!” Theseus cried. The Minotaur froze as if he’d been punched in the snout. That name…He knew that name. His earliest memories…gentle voices. A woman, maybe his mother? A comfortable nursery with actual baby food, warm blankets, a fire in the hearth. The Minotaur remembered a life outside the maze. He had a fleeting, warm sense of being human. And in that moment, Theseus stabbed him in the gut with his own broken horn.

The man’s face grew unrecognizable, shapeless, and still Jackson beat him. I wasn’t witnessing a fight, or a rescue. I was beholding punishment. A sentence... I realized he was seeing a maze of present and future, a web of occurrences visible only to him. As if he were fate itself. . . .

I am lost in a maze that you set up for yourself—and you too are lost in your own maze. When a person gets lost in their own maze, they are really fucked up. However, this maze shouldn’t be left for me to figure out. Unfortunately, I am in it, and I have to find my way out one way or another.

We said our goodbyes to Eurytion, Tyson pulled the cattle grid off the hole and we dropped back into the maze. I wish I could’ve put the mechanical spider on a leash. It scuttled along the tunnels so fast that most of time I couldn’t even see it. If it hadn’t been for Tyson’s and Grover’s excellent hearing, we never would’ve known which way it was going. We ran down a marble tunnel, then dashed to the left and almost fell into an abyss. Tyson grabbed me and hauled me back before I could fall. The tunnel continued in front of us, but there was no floor for about thirty metres, just gaping darkness and a series of iron rungs in the ceiling. The mechanical spider was about halfway across, swinging from bar to bar by shooting out metal web fibre. ‘Monkey bars,’ Annabeth said. ‘I’m great at these.’ She leaped onto the first rung and started swinging her way across. She was scared of tiny spiders, but not of plummeting to her death from a set of monkey bars. Go figure. Annabeth got to the opposite side and ran after the spider. I followed. When I got across, I looked back and saw Tyson giving Grover a piggyback ride (or was it a goatyback ride?).

The dark sky is being covered by a thick fog. The view reminds me of how I always felt about you. Instead of me being surrounded by your love, I was covered by a cloudy white thick fog, trying to find my way out of a chaotic maze in my mind. I’ve been broken all my life, and the fog hasn’t shown me any grace or mercy. I am tired of always trying to fight through the fog. I am exhausted from not knowing which way to go. Nevertheless, once the fog clears, I feel like I am on the hunt and racing time.

Dear, What’s the Point of it All? What is the point of being nice? When you do not know what you are going to get from it? Knowing eventually sooner rather than later someone and maybe that person you are being nice to will turn their back on you. I always have to stay grounded and focused. When I am there for people, I feel like I am always punished for it. I am always treated as if I committed a crime. I was there for my mom; however, she was killing me slowly but surely. Like my mom, I noticed that when people get themselves in some shit, they get stuck in their own mess. They are confident that they do not have to deal with the consequences—because they know the ‘kind’ person will bail them out. What’s the point of being kind? Like my mom and the officer, there are so many people in the world who are judgmental and tainted because of their selfish needs. What’s the point of my life? Here I am in a library filled with many books. I can read them and go anywhere I want to in my mind, but after I close the book, I will have to snap out of my fantasy world and welcome the cruel cold world, which is reality. If I was a book, I would be better off left on the shelf. There is no excitement in my life—only struggles. What’s the point of living and loving life when the only thing I do is read between the lines and tread carefully? Come to think about it, I am a book that nobody can understand or read. They think they know what is best for me, but if they only take the time to listen, I would be so happy to tell them about me and my needs and wants. My actions scream for attention, but time after time, I am ignored. Sadly, without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. Yet, once again, nobody noticed me. What’s the point of it all when I never had an opportunity to make a mistake? If I did one thing wrong, they would give up on me and send me to one home after another. I’ve always been fully exposed and had to walk in a line filled with sharp curves from disappointment to disappointment. Sorrow is my aura, and sadness hugs me tightly. It is hard to cry when my eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence of my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. What’s the point of complicating my life? I am always back to where I started, and then ... I relive the same patterns, but on a more difficult journey. I believe when you put yourself in your own mess that you should clean it up and start over. What’s wrong with that? Nothing. However, when someone else puts you in their mess, you do not know how to clean up the mess they’ve made. You do not know how to start over because you do not know where to begin. I look at it this way; it is like telling a dead person he/she can start over. How so, when that person’s life no longer exists? I know my life isn’t over. However, I am lost in a maze my mom set up for herself—and she too is lost in her own maze. When a person gets lost in their own maze, they are really fucked up. However, this maze shouldn’t be left for me to figure out. Unfortunately, I am in it, and I have to find my way out one way or another. What’s the point of taking Kace from me? He was safe and in good hands. Now he is worse off with people who are abusing him. He didn’t ask for this—I didn’t either. He deserves so much better. Again, what is the point of it all? What’s the point of making me suffer? Do you get a kick out of it? What are you trying to accomplish? I am trying to understand; what is the point of it all? What is the point? I don’t know why I am here.

Grover Underwood tenía una (conexión por empatía) con Percy Jackson, que, según él, explicaba por qué a veces tenía unos antojos inexplicables de tortitas de arándanos.

Anyone want a snack?’ Rich said as he reached inside his rucksack. He pulled out four shortbread biscuits and a bottle of water to share. ‘Mighty generous of you.’ Walter Jackson grinned at his friend. ‘Yes it is,’ Suzie agreed. ‘Rich, I’m sorry for being rude to you about your rucksack. You helped me with the stuff you had in there. I think you’ve earned the title ‘Boy Wonder’ after all!’ Everyone laughed. ‘But why do you carry your rucksack all the time?’ she asked kindly. ‘Well, after my parents died I went to live with my grandmother. Sometimes she left me at home by myself for days at a time. Whenever she bought groceries I’d secretly grab some and hide them in my rucksack. I never wanted to run out of food.’ Suzie nodded. ‘Yes, that makes sense. I’d probably do that too.

Minos tapped his chin. “I like your plan. Build this maze. We will call it…the Funhouse!” “Erm, I was thinking something more mysterious and terrifying,” Daedalus said. “Perhaps the Labyrinth?” “Fine. Whatever.

Dear Maze, My mind is a maze, and I do not know what to do. Apparently, I entered this maze before I was born. There was no way I had control over it because this was not a path that I would have chosen. Each level is mind- boggling because the number of paths is more challenging. The levels are uneven. When I try to climb up a hill, you unfairly tilt the maze, and I am right back at the entrance. I am not lost because I am finding my way, but when I am one step away from the end, you close the door, and another door appears—it opens, and it is another maze that I have to figure out. This time the puzzle is trickier than the last fourteen that were inconsiderately given to me. You know that Kace will be in deep trouble if my mother gets custody of him. He is too young. He cannot handle the tides. He wouldn’t know how to ease the currents. He would be a dead soul floating lifeless in the turbulent waters. Mr. & Mrs. Maze, I will gladly make you a deal. I am willing to sacrifice whatever you all need from me to save Kace. My sacrifice will solve each and every problem that Kace may encounter. I will gladly take on every route for Kace, and I will endure every challenge he will have to face. May you grant me mercy? I promise I will keep my word.

Dear Maze, My mind is a maze, and I do not know what to do. Apparently, I entered this maze before I was born. There was no way I had control over it because this was not a path that I would have chosen. Each level is mind- boggling because the number of paths is more challenging. The levels are uneven. When I try to climb up a hill, you unfairly tilt the maze, and I am right back at the entrance. I am not lost because I am finding my way, but when I am one step away from the end, you close the door, and another door appears—it opens, and it is another maze that I have to figure out. This time the puzzle is trickier than the past years that they were inconsiderately given to me.

In the old days, Ariadne’s string guided Theseus out of the maze. It was a navigation instrument of some kind, invented by Daedalus. And Chris Rodriguez was mumbling about string.