“I was a fight to the death, and I felt great.”

Can’t this thing go any faster?” Thalia demanded. Zoe glared at her. “I cannot control traffic.” You both sound like my mother,” I said. Shut up!” they both said in union.

I don’t care what your nose says! The last time you smelled half-blood, it turned out to be a meatloaf sandwich!” “Meatloaf sandwiches are good! But this is a half-blood scent, I swear. They are on board!” “Bah, your brain isn’t on board!

Sadie,” he said forlornly, “when you become a parent, you may understand this. One of my hardest jobs as a father, one of my greatest duties, was to realize that my own dreams, my own goals and wishes, are secondary to my children’s.

Is it fair your life burns so short and bright? Death had asked. “No such thing as fair,” Frank told himself. “If I’m going to burn, it might as well be bright.

On the bright side,” Percy said, “both Jason and I outrank you, Octavian. So we can both tell you to shut up.

The sea does not like to be restrained.

Love was the most savage monster of all.

Wisdom’s daughter walks alone, The mark of Athena burns through Rome.

Love is powerful. It can bring the gods to their knees.

Oh, did you expect me to play fair?” Cupid laughed. “I am the god of love. I am never fair.

It’s always hard to wrap up a series. The longer I spend with the characters, the more they become like friends.

Some pain shouldn’t be wished away so easily. It has to be dealt with, even embraced.

I tell aspiring writers that you have to find what you must write. When you find it, you will know, because the subject matter won’t let you go. It’s not enough to write simply because you think it would be neat to be published. You have to be compelled to write. If you’re not, nothing else that you do matters.

Chaos is impatient. It’s random. And above all it’s selfish. It tears down everything just for the sake of change, feeding on itself in constant hunger. But Chaos can also be appealing. It tempts you to believe that nothing matters except what you want.

Carter started down the stairs, but I grabbed his arm. “Hang on. What about traps?” He frowned. “Traps?” “Didn’t Egyptian tombs have traps?” “Well…sometimes. But this isn’t a tomb. Besides, more often they had curses, like the burning curse, the donkey curse—” “Oh, lovely. That sounds so much better.

Brother,” Artemis chided. “You do not help my Hunters. You do not look at, talk to, or flirt with my Hunters. And you do not call them sweetheart.