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.

The way Leo figured it, he spent more time crashing than he did flying. If there was a rewards card for frequent crashers, he'd be, like, double platinum level.

Contrary to what you might think, I don't spend every waking hour thinking about boys." "Just most waking hours?

Annabeth pressed her lips to Percy’s ear. “I love you.” She wasn’t sure he could hear her—but if they died, she wanted those to be her last words.

If I had my way," Dionysus said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm." "Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron put in. "Nonsense," Dionysus said. "Boy wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself. I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father.

My name is Percy Jackson. I'm twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York. Am I a troubled kid? Yeah. You could say that.

Knowledge isn't always good for you.