I imagined loading the God of the Sea into a taxi and taking him to the Upper East Side.

Seriously, who has monogrammed pajamas?

She had to face the fact that she couldn't protect everyone she loved. She couldn't solve every problem.

Right before the game, she strolled up to me. "Hey, Seaweed Brain." "Will you stop calling me that?" She knows I hate that name, mostly because I never have a good comeback. She's the daughter of Athena, which doesn't give me a lot of ammunition. I mean, "Owl-head" and "Wise Girl" are kind of lame insults.

Gods tend to be selfish. Even when they're helpful, they always have their own motives. That's why you have to be careful about trusting them.

Thanks for not freaking out," I said. "Oh, I'm freaking out," Paul promised, his eyes wide. "I just think it's awesome!

Wonderful, Annabeth thought. Her own mother, the most levelheaded Olympian, was reduced to a raving, vicious scatterbrain in a subway station. And, of all the gods who might help them, the only ones not affected by the Greek-Roman schism seemed to be Aphrodite, Nemesis and Dionysus. Love, revenge, wine. Very helpful.