Piper patted his shoulder. “Trust me, Valdez. Beautiful people never lie.

Ever come home and found your room messed up? Like some helpful person (hi, Mom) has tried to "clean" it, and suddenly you can't find anything? And even if nothing is missing, you get that creepy feeling like somebody's been looking through your private stuff and dusting everything with lemon furniture polish?

Nico leaned over and plucked a grape. Probably that was the guy’s entire diet for the day.

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

Amos stopped before the entrance, which was the size of a garage door—a dark heavy square of timber with no visible handle or lock. “Carter after you.” “Um, how do I—” “How do you think?” Great another mystery. I was about to suggest we ram Amos’s head against it and see if that worked.

I think every writer struggles in some way with writers block. The trick is to plan out what you are going to say beforehand. I found out that if you make an outline you're much less likely to get blocked when you get into the middle of the story.

I can try to disable it," I said, "but if I mess up, this whole apartment is going to fill with gas. We'll die." Thalia swallowed. " I trust you. Just... don't mess it up.