Lovely. Imprisoned in a nursery school dungeon.

I think the more you understand myths, the more you understand the roots of our culture and the more things will resonate. Do you have to know them? No, but certainly it is nice to recognise how deeply these things are embedded in our literature, our art.

Curled up at the base of the scales, fast asleep, was the oddest monster I'd seen yet. It had the head of crocodile with a lion's mane. The front half of its body was a lion, but the back end was sleek, brown, and fat - a hippo, I decided. The odd bit was, the animal was tiny - I mean, no larger than an average poodle, which I suppose made him a hippodoodle.

I'll show them 'love is worthless,'" Silena Beauregard grumbled as she strapped on her armor. "I'll pulverize them!

What are these guys?" He whispered "Canadians," Percy said. Frank leaned away from him. "Excuse me?" "Uh, no offense," Percy said. "That's what Annabeth called them when I fought them before. She said they live in the north, in Canada." "Yeah, well," Frank grumbled, "we're in Canada. I'm Canadian. But I've never seen those things before.

He just raised the dead with coke and cheeseburgers

Annabeth came up to me. She was dressed in black camouflage with her Celestial bronze knife strapped to her arm and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder—ready for stabbing or surfing the Internet, whichever came first.