Doughboy, we need to talk.” Doughboy opened his wax eyes. “Finally! You realize how stuffy it is in there? At last you’ve remembered that you need my brilliant guidance.” “Actually we need to become a coat.

My eighth grade teacher, Mrs. Pabst, had done her master's thesis on Tolkien. She showed me how the trilogy was patterned after Norse mythology. She was also the first person to encourage me to submit stories for publication. The idea of writing a fantasy based on myths never left me, and many years later, this would lead me to write Percy Jackson.

Hope does not leave without being given permission.

But how did you know where we were?" Annabeth asked. Advanced planning, my dear. I figured you would wash up near Miami if you made it out of the Sea of Monsters alive. Almost everything strange washes up near Miami.

Keep climbing,' he told himself. 'Cheeseburgers,' his stomach replied. 'Shut up,' he thought. 'With fries,' his stomach complained.

Don't untie me," she said, "no matter what happens or how much I plead. I'll want to go straight over the edge and drown myself." "Are you trying to tempt me?" "Ha-ha.

I gave her a smile that I hoped conveyed something like: Hey, you know I’m on your side. Gods are such jerks! But what can you do? Probably my expression actually conveyed: It’s not my fault! Please do not kill me!