Right,” I said. “So the baboon, the crocodile…any other pets I should know about?” Amos thought for a moment. “Visible ones? No, I think that’s it.

Neither torch nor dagger," Annabeth said firmly. "There is a third test, which I will pass." "A third test?" the pater demanded. "Mithras was born from rock," Annabeth said, hoping she was right. "He emerged fully grown from the stone, holding his dagger and torch." The screaming and wailing told her she had guessed correctly. "The big mother knows all!" a ghost cried. "That is our most closely guarded secret!" Then maybe you shouldn't put a statue of it on your altar, Annabeth thought.

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.

Deadlines just aren't real to me until I'm staring one in the face.

You’re that lady,” Leo said. “The one who was named after Caribbean music.” Her eyes glinted murderously. “Caribbean music.” “Yeah. Reggae?” Leo shook his head. “Merengue? Hold on, I’ll get it.” He snapped his fingers. “Calypso!

If not for the horses, Piper would've died.

If you've ever tried ba travel, I wouldn't recommend it-- unless of course you fancy turning into a phantom chicken and rafting uncontrollably through the currents of the Duat.