“Grilled satyr with mango chutney," Polyphemus mused. He looked back at Clarisse, still hanging over the pot of boiling water. "You a satyr too?" "No, you overgrown pile of dung!" she yelled. "I'm a girl! The daughter of Ares!Now untie me so i can rip your arms off!" "Rip my arms off," Polyphemus repeated. "And stuff them down your throat!" "You got spunk.”

“You touch her again, and so help me I’ll rip your arm off and beat you with it. (Ewan)”

“The train braked. Five-minute stop. The man got off. All very ordinary, of course. But still. Flore came back, passed by me. She touched my arm, returned to her seat. I could have ripped my arm off. You don't need two arms. One good arm, fine, and the other one, the one she'd just touched, in formaldehyde. On the mantelpiece. In my big apartment. When she leaves me.”

“Polyphemus stiffened. "Who said that?""Nobody!" Annabeth yelled.That got exactly the reaction she'd been hoping for. The monster's face turned red with rage."Nobody!" Polyphemus yelled back. "I remember you!""You're too stupid to remember anybody," Annabeth taunted. "Much less Nobody.”

“I don't care if you got knocked up. I can still rip your throat out”

“Anybody bugs you, anybody at all, I’ll rip off both his arms. You got me?”She tried to smile. “That’s sweet, Davy. Bloodthirsty, but sweet.”