But Yes. Come, Faulty Dragon People. Follow

We Need A Shroud. A Shroud For The Son Of Hermes.

I Picked Up Pandora's Jar. The Spirit Of Hope Fluttered Inside, Trying To Warm The Cold Container. "hestia," I Said, "i Give This To You As An Offering." The Goddess Tilted Her Head. "i Am The Least Of The Gods. Why Would You Trust Me With This?" "you're The Last Olympian," I Said. "and The Most Important." "and Why Is That, Percy Jackson?" "because Hope Survives Best At The Hearth," I Said. "guard It For Me, And I Won't Be Tempted To Give Up Again."

I Try To Craft Books That Are Fun, That Are Sort Of Subversively Educational So Kids Learn But They Don't Really Feel Like They're Being Lectured To, And I Want Kids To Always Finish One Of My Books And Think, "that Was Great, Where's The Next One?"

Sometimes, It Takes Us A While To Appreciate Something New, Something That Might Change Us For The Better.

George Unhinged His Jaw And Coughed Up A Little Plastic Bottle Filled With Chewable Vitamins. "you're Kidding," I Said. "are Those Minotaur-shaped?" Hermes Picked Up The Bottle And Rattled It. "the Lemon Ones, Yes. The Grape Ones Are Furies, I Think. Or Are They Hydras? At Any Rate, These Are Potent."