“She was so warm, her drenched clothes had almost dried. Her eyes were rolled back in her head. She started muttering, and I could’ve sworn she said, “Dung balls. Time to roll the dung balls.”It might’ve been funny—except for the fact that she was dying.“That’s Khepri talking,” Setne explained. “He’s the divine dung beetle, rolling the sun across the sky.”I didn’t want to process that—the idea that the girl I liked had been possessed by a dung beetle and was now having dreams about pushing a giant sphere of flaming poo across the sky.”

“Rowww!” Bast wailed. The wrecking ball rolled straight over her, but she didn’t appear hurt. She leaped off and pounced aain. Her knives sliced through the metal like wet clay. Within seconds, the wrecking ball was reduced to a mound of scraps.Bast sheathed her blades. “Safe now.”“You saved us from a metal ball,” Sadie said.“You never know,” Bast said. “It could’ve been hostile.”

“I looked at Thalia. "You're afraid of heights."Now that we were safely down the mountain, her eyes had their usual angry look. "Don't be stupid."That explains why you freaked out on Apollo's bus. Why you didn't want to talk about it."She took a deep breath. Then she brushed the pine needles out of her hair. "If you tell anyone, I swear—"No, no," I said. "That's cool. It's just… the daughter of Zeus, the Lord of the Sky, afraid of heights?”

“Percy (talking about Annabeth):"I found myself staring at her, which was stupid since I'd seen her a billion times. Still, she seemed so much more mature. It was kind of intimidating. I mean, sure, she'd always been cute, but she was starting to be seriously beautiful.”

“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.”

“She was probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray,like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight. She glanced at the minotaur horn in my hand, then back at me. I imagined she was going to say, You killed a Minotaur! or Wow you're so awesome! or something like that. Instead she said, "you drool when you sleep." Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.”

“Don't die on me," she ordered. "You are not dying on me.""Yes, ma'am." He felt light-headed, but she was about the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Her hair was smoldering. Her face was smudged with soot. She had a cut on her arm, her dress was torn, and she was missing a boot. Beautiful.”