I gave her my deluxe I'll-Kill-You-Later stare.

Red cattle," Annabeth said. "The cattle of the sun." "What?" I [Percy] asked. "They're sacred to Apollo." "Holy cows?

Brother dear,” I said, “did your soul leave your body while Amos was talking, or did you actually hear him? Egyptian gods real. Red Lord bad. Red Lord’s birthday: very soon, very bad. House of Life: fussy magicians who hate our family because dad was a bit of a rebel, whom you could take a lesson from. Which leaves us—just us—with Dad missing, an evil god about to destroy the world, and an uncle who just jumped off the building—and I can’t actually blame him.” I took a breath. [Yes, Carter, I do have to breathe occasionally.]

Want a cookie,' Ra said. 'What kind?' 'Weasel cookie.' I'm here to tell you, that comment about weasel cookies probably saved the known universe.

He was rewarded with a silver-and-red can of soda. He brandished it at the dolphin warriors as if spraying them with bug repellant. "Behold!" Percy shouted. "The god's chosen beverage. Tremble before the horror of Diet Coke!" The dolphin-men began to panic. They were on the edge of retreat. Percy could feel it.

I tell aspiring writers that you have to find what you must write. When you find it, you will know, because the subject matter won’t let you go. It’s not enough to write simply because you think it would be neat to be published. You have to be compelled to write. If you’re not, nothing else that you do matters.

Now, I figured that the built-up gas in most boys' locker rooms was enough to cause an explosion, so I wasn't surprised when the flaming dodgeball ignited a huge WHOOOOOOOM!