“Your uncle," Poseidon sighed, "has always had a flair for dramatic exits. I think he would've done well as the god of theater.”

“Steve always had a flair for the dramatic. He should have raised one ghostly fist in the air as he said it; though,for the full effect.”

“Every day my mother had tea. My dad has his ritual cigar. They had their evening cocktail. Those rituals were done nicely, with flair and feeling.”

“Are you going to spend what might be your last your last few days together in Franklen Grove sulking and sighing? Or are you are you going to make the most of them?" "Im a profetional sulker," Ivy replied "And I have a very dramatic sigh,"Olivia said and sighed dramaticly.”

“And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that [Christmas] has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!”

“I got the feeling Poseidon really didn't know what to think of me. He didn't know whether he was happy to have me as a son or not. In a strange way, I was glad that Poseidon was so distant. If he'd tried to apologize, or told me he love me, or even smiled. it would've felt fake. Like human dad, making some lame excuse for not being around. I could live with that. After all, I wasn't sure about him yet, either.”