Percy Jackson Book Quotes

In a way, it's nice to know that there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some devine force is really trying to mess up your day.

All I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorms room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my Essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

All aboard for one last trip.

Wisdom's daughter walks alone—” “Ella!” Frank stood suddenly. “Maybe it's not the best time—” “The Mark of Athena burns through Rome,” Ella continued, cupping her hands over her ears and raising her voice. “Twins snuff out the angel's breath, Who holds the key to endless death. Giants' bane stands gold and pale, Won with pain from a woven jail.

Look, I didnt want to be a half-blood. If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom and dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life. Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful nasty ways. If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe none of this ever happened. But if you recognize yourself in these pages-if you feel something stirring inside- stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time before THEY sense it too, and they'll come for you. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Then she did something that really surprised me. She blinked back tears and put out her arms. I stepped forward and hugged her. Butterflies started turning my stomach into a mosh pit. "Hey, it's... it's okay." I patted her back. I was aware of everything in the room. I felt like I could read the tiniest print on any book on the shelves. Annabeth's hair smelled like lemon soap. She was shivering.

I'd had years of practise looking dumb when people threw out Greek names I didn't know. It's a skill of mine. Annabeth keeps telling me to read a book of Greek myths, but I don't see the need. It's easier just to have folks explain stuff.

You are a half-blood," Zoe Nightshade said. Her accent was hard to place. It sounded old-fashioned, like she was reading from a really old book. "One of thy parents was mortal. The other was an Olympian." "An Olympian athlete?" "No," Zoe said. "One of the gods." "Cool!" said Nico.

At the end of the warehouse was a dais constructed from pallets of books: stack of vampire novels, walls of James Patterson thrillers, and a throne from about a thousand copies of something called The Five Habits of Highly Aggressive Women.

I sort of fell." "Percy! Six hundred and thirty feet?

Do you know who I am?" she demanded. "Well, you're Night, I suppose," said Annabeth. "I mean, I can tell because you're dark and everything, though the brochure didn't say much about you." Nyx's eyes winked out for a moment. "What brochure?" Annabeth patted her pockets. "We had one, didn't we?" Percy licked his lips. "Uh-huh." He was still watching the horses, his hand tight on his sword hilt, but he was smart enough to follow Annabeth's lead. [...] "Anyway," she said, "I guess the brochure didn't say much, because you weren't spotlighted on the tour. We got to see the River Phlegethon, the Cocytus, the arai, the poison glade of Akhlys, even some random Titans and giants, but Nyx...hmm, no you weren't really featured." "Featured? Spotlighted?" "Yeah," Percy said, warming up to the idea. "We came down here for the Tartarus tour--like, exotic destinations, you know? The Underworld is overdone. Mount Olympus is a tourist trap--" "Gods, totally!" Annabeth agreed. "So we booked the Tartarus excursion, but no one even mentioned we'd run into Nyx. Huh. Oh, well. Guess they didn't think you were important.

It's not how long you live that matters. It's what you live for." -Josephine to Apollo (Trials of Apollo: Book 2 The Dark Prophecy)

Oops. Sorry, everybody. This book is not officially endorsed by the proper Muse. If it explodes in your hand, my bad.

I really wish my cousins wouldn’t slam their heads together. They don’t have the brain cells to spare.

Books might not have much power over me, but I’m a sucker for small shiny objects.

If you can read this, then surprise! You're probably a demigod too. That's because only demigods - and a few special mortals, like my mom and Rachel Elizabeth Dare - can read what's actually written here. To everyone else, this book is called The Complete History of Pavement and it's about ... well, that should be obvious. You can thank the Mist for that choice of topic.

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

But whenever Annabeth talked about the time she spent with them, I kind felt... I don’t know. Uncomfortable? No. That’s not the word. The word was jealous.

He isn’t dead,” she insisted. “I know it. The same way you knew about me.” That comparison didn’t make me too happy.

They reminded Kyle of a Greek god and goddess straight out of the Percy Jackson books. “Wow,” said Miguel. “Do you think Rick Riordan’s going to be here? That would be so awesome!

Only one more day to go. Surely even I couldn't mess that up. As usual, I didn't have a clue how wrong I was.

Personally,” Mr. D continued, “I couldn’t care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Peter Johnson.” Chiron murmured something. “Er, Percy Jackson,” Mr. D corrected. “That’s right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on.

The book was The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Percy had never heard of it, but he could guess who sent it. The letter read: Good job, kid. A real man’s best weapon is his mind. This was your mom’s favorite book. Give it a read. P.S.—I hope your friend Percy has learned some respect for me. “Wow.” Percy handed back the book. “Maybe Mars is different than Ares. I don’t think Ares can read.

My story has already been written down in some books that are total fiction (wink, wink) and I am just a character from the story (cough – yeah, right – cough).

My mom told us that her book had received its first one-star review online, even though the book wouldn’t be out for several more months.

Hecate arched her eyebrows. “I don’t limit access to books, Percy Jackson. I’m not a monster.

Maybe it’s the other way around,’ Jason suggested. ‘Maybe people with special gifts show up when bad things are happening because that’s when they’re needed most.

The big reason I prefer books to TV or movies is that books allow space for your imagination to create the way you see the characters.

I’m a little too ADHD to include every single one of them in a single book.

I GET A NEW ENEMY FOR CHRISTMAS

He was reading a huge book with a picture of a wizard on the front. I wasn’t much into fantasy, but the book must’ve been good, because the guard took a while to look up.

For I am the Mother of Monsters, the terrible Echidna!" "Isn't that a kind of anteater?

As soon as we saw him, Tyson froze. “Pony!” He cries in total rupture. Chiron turned, looking offended. “I beg your pardon?

From her pocket, she brought out a small metal figurine, a statue of a god. “It... it was for Nico. It was the only statue he didn’t have.

We’ve been coming here since we were in fifth grade and our moms dropped us off for our Percy Jackson book club for two.

Why can’t you place a blessing like that on us?” I asked. “It only works on wild animals.” “So it would only affect Percy,” Annabeth reasoned. “Hey!” I protested. “Kidding,” she said.

Or maybe they’d realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

Sorry, Tom,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “At the Lemoncello Library, we value the truth more than myths.” “What about all those Percy Jackson books you have?” fumed Edison. “Those are myths!” “And they are correctly shelved as fiction.

LOOK, I’M ONLY IN THIS FOR THE PIZZA. The publisher was like, “Oh, you did such a great job writing about the Greek gods last year! We want you to write another book about the Ancient Greek heroes! It’ll be so cool!” And I was like, “Guys, I’m dyslexic. It’s hard enough for me to read books.” Then they promised me a year’s supply of free pepperoni pizza, plus all the blue jelly beans I could eat. I sold out. I guess it’s cool. If you’re looking to fight monsters yourself, these stories might help you avoid some common mistakes—like staring Medusa in the face, or buying a used mattress from any dude named Crusty. But the best reason to read about the old Greek heroes is to make yourself feel better. No matter how much you think your life sucks, these guys and gals had it worse. They totally got the short end of the Celestial stick. By the way, if you don’t know me, my name is Percy Jackson. I’m a modern-day demigod—the son of Poseidon. I’ve had some bad experiences in my time, but the heroes I’m going to tell you about were the original old-school hard-luck cases. They boldly screwed up where no one had screwed up before. Let’s pick twelve of them. That should be plenty. By the time you finish reading about how miserable their lives were—what with the poisonings, the betrayals, the mutilations, the murders, the psychopathic family members, and the flesh-eating barnyard animals—if that doesn’t make you feel better about your own existence, then I don’t know what will. So get your flaming spear. Put on your lion-skin cape. Polish your shield, and make sure you’ve got arrows in your quiver. We’re going back about four thousand years to decapitate monsters, save some kingdoms, shoot a few gods in the butt, raid the Underworld, and steal loot from evil people. Then, for dessert, we’ll die painful tragic deaths. Ready? Sweet. Let’s do this.

So next time you're bitten by a cobra, don't worry! Just book a flight to Lemnos and eat a bunch of dirt. You'll be fine.

I'd missed my entire junior year thanks to some business we won't get into (Hera) on account of some meddling gods (Hera) for reasons of a cosmic apocalypse (Hera).

Am I a troubled kid? Yeah, you could say that.

minute later Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was my face.

He played “YMCA,” and the strawberry plants started going crazy, wrapping around our feet like they were trying to strangle us. I guess I couldn’t blame them.

Most Yancy field

The surfer screamed something about bad mushrooms and paddled away from us as fast as he could.

WE VISIT THE JUNK YARD OF THE GODS

My story has already been written down in some books that are total fiction (wink, wink) and I am just a character from the story (cough—yeah, right—cough).

Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay with me." I couldn't really see, but I thought she might've smiled.

I knew this wasn't a dream. I had no imagination.

Zoe had known all along that the oracle's prophecy was about her: she would die by a parent's hand. And yet she'd taken the quest anyway. She had chosen to save me, and Atlas' fury had broken her inside.

All Summer in a Day” by Ray Bradbury Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo Big Nate series by Lincoln Peirce The Black Cauldron (The Chronicles of Prydain) by Lloyd Alexander The Book Thief  by Markus Zusak Brian’s Hunt by Gary Paulsen Brian’s Winter by Gary Paulsen Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis The Call of the Wild by Jack London The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White The Chronicles of Narnia series by C. S. Lewis Diary of a Wimpy Kid series by Jeff Kinney Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury The Giver by Lois Lowry Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling Hatchet by Gary Paulsen The High King (The Chronicles of Prydain) by Lloyd Alexander The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien Holes by Louis Sachar The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins I Am LeBron James by Grace Norwich I Am Stephen Curry by Jon Fishman Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell Johnny Tremain by Esther Hoskins Forbes Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson LeBron’s Dream Team: How Five Friends Made History by LeBron James and Buzz Bissinger The Lightning Thief  (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) by Rick Riordan A Long Walk to Water by Linda Sue Park The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood by Howard Pyle Number the Stars by Lois Lowry The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton The River by Gary Paulsen The Sailor Dog by Margaret Wise Brown Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan Shiloh by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor “A Sound of Thunder” by Ray Bradbury Star Wars Expanded Universe novels (written by many authors) Star Wars series (written by many authors) The Swiss Family Robinson by Johann D. Wyss Tales from a Not-So-Graceful Ice Princess (Dork Diaries) by Rachel Renée Russell Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing by Judy Blume “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt Under the Blood-Red Sun by Graham Salisbury The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle

I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book. I’d never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn’t want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn’t tried. I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner’s door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor. I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover’s said “…worried about Percy, sir.” I froze. I’m not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking about you to an adult. I inched closer.

If you’re reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe what-ever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life. Being a half-blood is dangerous. It’s scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.

Clarisse’s friends were all laughing, and I was trying to find the strength I’d used to fight the Minotaur, but it just wasn’t there. “Like he’s ‘Big Three’ material,” Clarisse said as she pushed me toward one of the toilets. “Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking.” Her friends snickered. Annabeth stood in the corner, watching through her fingers. Clarisse bent me over on my knees and started pushing my head toward the toilet bowl. It reeked like rusted pipes and, well, like what goes into toilets. I strained to keep my head up. I was looking at the scummy water, thinking, I will not go into that. I won’t. Then something happened. I felt a tug in the pit of my stomach. I heard the plumbing rumble, the pipes shudder. Clarisse’s grip on my hair loosened. Water shot out of the toilet, making an arc straight over my head, and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the bathroom tiles with Clarisse screaming behind me. I turned just as water blasted out of the toilet again, hitting Clarisse straight in the face so hard it pushed her down onto her butt. The water stayed on her like the spray from a fire hose, pushing her backward into a shower stall. She struggled, gasping, and her friends started coming toward her. But then the other toilets exploded, too, and six more streams of toilet water blasted them back. The showers acted up, too, and together all the fixtures sprayed the camouflage girls right out of the bathroom, spinning them around like pieces of garbage being washed away. As soon as they were out the door, I felt the tug in my gut lessen, and the water shut off as quickly as it had started. The entire bathroom was flooded. Annabeth hadn’t been spared. She was dripping wet, but she hadn’t been pushed out the door. She was standing in exactly the same place, staring at me in shock.

So those are the basics. I know some of you are going to be complaining, like, Ah, you forgot to talk about Cheez Whiz, the god of mice! You forgot to mention Bumbritches, the god of bad fashion statements! Or whatever. Please. There are about a hundred thousand Greek gods out there. I'm a little too ADHD to include every single one of them in a single book. Sure, I could tell you how Gaea raised an army of giants to attack Olympus. I could tell you how Cupid got his girlfriend, or how Hecate got her farting weasel. But that would take a whole other book. (And please don't give the publisher any ideas. This writing gig is HARD!) We've covered most of the major players. You probably know enough now to avoid getting zapped into a pile of ash if you ever come across any of the twelve Olympians. Probably. “Me, I’m late to meet my girlfriend. Annabeth is going to kill me. Hope you enjoyed the stories. Stay safe out there, demigods. Peace from Manhattan, Percy Jackson

Pretty,eh?" I jumped a foot. "Nonna!" She was standing in my doorway, beaming like a demented gnome. "For your underwater dance." "It looks like....a toga." "Toga," she sniffed as she stalked across the room to lift the dress from its hanger, "is for boys at silly parties. This is for a goddess." She held it up to me. "You will be Salacia, Roman goddess of water." It still looked like a toga, and not a very big one, although it did almost reach the floor. My legs would be covered, which was all well and good, except that, other than going a little too long without defuzzing, I didn't have much of a problem with my legs. I did know this wasn't going to work. I just had no idea at the moment how I was going to make it not happen. "This is awfully...pagan of you, Nonna." She rolled her eyes. "Ai, sixteen, with the smart mouth and such certainty. You think I just read the Bible? A goddess, she has more fun than a saint." "Nonna!" "Ah!" She poked me in the center of the chest with her middle finger. "Fun, si, but a bad end if she thinks to hold the heart of a boy who wants only to play. Salacia, she let Neptune chase her and chase her and prove his heart was true." I didn't argue. My grasp of Greco-Roman mythology is shaky at best, and derived mostly from the Percy Jackson books. I had my doubts about Neptune's heart, but figured it would only be smart-assy to mention that to my grandmother.

Look, I didn’t want to be a half- blood. If you’re reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life. Being a half- blood is dangerous. It’s scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. If you’re a normal kid, reading this because you think it’s fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened. But if you recognize yourself in these pages—if you feel something stirring inside—stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it’s only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they’ll come for you.

DEAR YOUNG DEMIGOD, Your destiny awaits. Now that you have discovered your true parentage, you must prepare yourself for a difficult future—fighting monsters, adventuring across the world, and dealing with temperamental Greek and Roman gods. I don’t envy you. I hope this volume will help you on your journeys. I had to think long and hard before publishing these stories, as they were given to me in the strictest confidence. However, your survival comes first, and this book will give you an inside look at the world of demigods—information that may help keep you alive. We’ll begin with “The Diary of Luke Castellan.” Over the years, many readers and campers at Camp Half-Blood have asked me to tell the story of Luke’s early days, adventuring with Thalia and Annabeth before they arrived at camp. I have been reluctant to do this, as neither Annabeth nor Thalia likes to talk about those times. The only information I have is recorded in Luke’s own handwriting, in his original diary given to me by Chiron. I think it’s time, though, to share a little of Luke’s story. It may help us understand what went wrong for such a promising young demigod. In this excerpt you will find out how Thalia and Luke arrived in Richmond, Virginia, chasing a magic goat, how they were almost destroyed in a house of horrors, and how they met a young girl named Annabeth. I have also included a map of Halcyon Green’s house in Richmond. Despite the damage described in the story, the house has been rebuilt, which is very troubling. If you go there, be careful. It may still contain treasures. But it most assuredly contains monsters and traps as well. Our second story will definitely get me in trouble with Hermes. “Percy Jackson and the Staff of Hermes” describes an embarrassing incident for the god of travelers, which he hoped to solve quietly with

Twenty, thirty, forty feet. The pressure wasn’t uncomfortable. I’d never tried to push it—to see if there was a limit to how deep I could dive. I knew most regular humans couldn’t go past two hundred feet without crumpling like an aluminum can. I should’ve been blind, too, this deep in the water at night, but I could see the heat from living forms, and the cold of the currents. It’s hard to describe. It wasn’t like regular seeing, but I could tell where everything was. As I got closer to the bottom, I saw three hippocampi—fish-tailed horses—swimming in a circle around an overturned boat. The hippocampi were beautiful to watch. Their fish tails shimmered in rainbow colors, glowing phosphorescent. Their manes were white, and they were galloping through the water the way nervous horses do in a thunderstorm. Something was upsetting them. I got closer and saw the problem. A dark shape—some kind of animal—was wedged halfway under the boat and tangled in a fishing net, one of those big nets they use on trawlers to catch everything at once. I hated those things. It was bad enough they drowned porpoises and dolphins, but they also occasionally caught mythological animals. When the nets got tangled, some lazy fishermen would just cut them loose and let the trapped animals die. Apparently this poor creature had been mucking around on the bottom of Long Island Sound and had somehow gotten itself tangled in the net of this sunken fishing boat. It had tried to get out and managed to get even more hopelessly stuck, shifting the boat in the process. Now the wreckage of the hull, which was resting against a big rock, was teetering and threatening to collapse on top of the tangled animal. The hippocampi were swimming around frantically, wanting to help but not sure how. One was trying to chew the net, but hippocampi teeth just aren’t meant for cutting rope. Hippocampi are really strong, but they don’t have hands, and they’re not (shhh) all that smart. Free

The dolphin statue farted and blew her into the fountain? Sounded unlikely,

Like I could throw Nancy Bobofit a hundred yards.” “That’s good,” he said. “That’s good. I don’t think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff.

A soap marker offered cruelty-free soap, because nothing is worse than showerin with cruel soap.

Come on,” he said, “I gotta introduce you to the camp director.” Director? Sounded like someone important. I hoped I could keep from throwing up on him.

Jack-of-all-trades, master of none. "You think you'll ever try living with your dad again?" "Please. I'm not into self-inflicted pain." The sea does not like to be restrained. If you are the son of Poseidon, you would not fear water. Jump, Percy Jackson. Deception upon deception.

pig cowboys.

I peeled off one of the pieces of toilet paper from the roll Stinkera gave me, and wiped myself with it. The empty guacamole dish behind the counter magically filled up with tasty guacamole. “Seems like that might not have been the best use of the magic toilet paper,” said Annabeth.

but don’t ask her if you can book a room at the Palace Athena. I can tell you from personal experience, she doesn’t think that’s funny.

what

my father.

She named him Hipponous, because we don’t already have enough people named Hippo in this book.

The only reward I can offer is moving on to the last hero—a guy I personally like a lot. He shares a name with a buddy of mine. Also, anybody who goes on a dangerous voyage to retrieve a sheepskin rug is okay in my book. Let’s take a cruise with Jason.

They’re not going to like that,” Grover warned. “They’ll think you’re impertinent.” I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop! “I am impertinent,” I said.

I tried to cry out, but my voice wouldn’t work.

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. If you're reading this because you think you might be one my advise is: close this book right now.

Our next exam was science. Mrs. Tesla told us that we had to mix chemicals until we succeeded in making something explode. Tyson was my lab partner.

black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year, when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown. From her first

My father?” I asked, completely bewildered. “Poseidon,” said Chiron. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.

You’re Probably Writing Middle Grade Middle Grade fiction is written largely with the tween community in mind. Characters are generally between the ages of twelve and fifteen, and page counts start to climb closer to those of full-length novels. These stories often feature coming-of-age stories as their protagonists are going through the emotional and confusing stage of puberty. Popular middle grade books include Diaries of a Wimpy Kid as well as the Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan.

A friend: What book haven't you read yet? Me: I'm not sure. I have read the Percy Jackson series or Mortal Instrument series in a whil-- Friend: I mean, like, a book you haven't read at all. Me: Oh. I'm not sure then, let me get back to you after I finish this six-book series." -- Me.

laughed.

Percy!

Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best we can do is to remind each other that we’re related, for better or worse…and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum.” It didn’t sound like much of a recipe for the perfect family.

He went back to playing “YMCA” for the strawberry plants. I didn’t need an empathy link with the plants to know how they felt about it.

Laistry—I can’t even say that. What would you call them in English?” She thought about it for a moment. “Canadians,

I woke up on the porch of a large house overlooking a meadow. Unfortunately, instead

solstice

Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood. If you’re reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life. Being a half-blood is dangerous. It’s scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. If you’re a normal kid, reading this because you think it’s fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened. But if you recognize yourself in these pages – if you feel something stirring inside – stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it’s only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they’ll come for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

He gave Tyson a big octopus hug.

LOOK, I’M ONLY IN THIS FOR THE PIZZA. The publisher was like, “Oh, you did such a great job writing about the Greek gods last year! We want you to write another book about the Ancient Greek heroes! It’ll be so cool!” And I was like, “Guys, I’m dyslexic. It’s hard enough for me to read books.” Then they promised me a year’s supply of free pepperoni pizza, plus all the blue jelly beans I could eat. I sold out.

Maybe you have to hit the skeleton in a certain spot,” I said.

I’m never too old for candy.

Me miró, como saboreando el hecho de que yo siguiera allí. Y entonces comprendí que yo estaba haciendo exactamente lo mismo. El mundo se desmoronaba, pero lo único que me importaba era que ella continuara viva

Odio quando le persone mi deludono, quando le cose sono temporanee.

next time you’re bitten by a cobra, don’t worry! Just book a flight to Lemnos and eat a bunch of dirt. You’ll be fine.

was 1985. Another guy told me it was 1993. They all claimed they hadn’t been in here very long, a few days, a few weeks at most. They didn’t really know and they didn’t care.

Okay, folks. At this point, feel free to put down the book and run around in circles screaming, “EEEEWWWWW!

So next time you’re bitten by a cobra, don’t worry! Just book a flight to Lemnos and eat a bunch of dirt. You’ll be fine.

Percy Jackson," Hermes said. "you might just teach us a thing or two.

had to get to shore. I had to get Zeus’s thunderbolt back to Olympus. Most of all, I had to have a serious conversation with the god who’d tricked me.