Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing.

Writing is like a sport. If you don't practice, you don't get any better.

I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to kneel or buy stamps from him or what.

I am Persephone" she said, her voice thin and papery. "Welcome, demigods. Nico squashed a pomegranate under his boot. "Welcome? After last time, you've got the nerve to welcome me?" I shifted uneasily, because talking that way to a god can get you blasted into dust bunnies. "Um, Nico-" "It's all right," Persephone said coldly. "We had a little family spat." "Family spat?" Nico cried. "You turned me into a dandelion!

Percy’d heard stories about amputees who had phantom pains where their missing legs and arms used to be. That’s how his mind felt—like his missing memories were aching.

You're a stalker with hooves." "I am not! I followed her to the Big House and hid in a bush and watched the whole thing.

Maybe it's okay to still be a kid every once in a while.