You deal with mythological stuff for a few years, you learn that paradises are usually places where you get killed.

Kids are baby goats. They're cute and they have redeeming social value. You are definitely not kids.

Mr. D, wearing his leopard-skin jogging suit and rummaging through the refrigerator. He looked up lazily. "Do you mind?" Where's Chiron!" I shouted. How rude." Mr. D took a swig from a jug of grape juice. "Is that how you say hello?" Hello," I amended. "We're about to die! Where's Chiron?

Happy the Dragon was not so happy.

I try to craft books that are fun, that are sort of subversively educational so kids learn but they don't really feel like they're being lectured to, and I want kids to always finish one of my books and think, "That was great, where's the next one?"

Annabeth frowned. "That doesn't make sense. But why were you visiting --" Her eyes widened. "Hermes said you bear the curse of Achilles. Hestia said the same thing. Did you . . . did you bathe in the River Styx?" "Don't change the subject." "Percy! Did you or not?" "Um . . .maybe a little.

So few people did good in their lives. It was depressing.