The Dark Prophecy

It's not how long you live that matters. It's what you live for.

We only fail when we stop trying.

Everything living deserves a chance to grow.

I remember something Marcus Aurelius used to tell his son, a quote that later became famous in his Meditations book: Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now, take what's left and live it properly. What doesn't transmit light creates its own darkness.

Being productive. Ugh. It's such a human concept. It implies you have limited time (LOL) and have to work hard to make something happen (double LOL).

Ever since my famous battle with Python, I've had a phobia of scaly reptilian creatures. (Especially if you include my stepmother, Hera. BOOM!)

I felt a bit silly giving this advice to a girl who regularly fought monsters with golden swords, but I had promised Bill Nye the Science Guy I would always promote safe laboratory practices.

Nets can be traps. But they can also be safety nets. You just have to know when to jump in.

We were ten feet away when we triggered the First Law of Percy Jackson

I hear much talk about us and them. I am always wary when people speak this way, as if people can be so easily divided into friend and enemy.

I dragged Meg toward the sewer (because that’s what friends are for)

You're Meg McCaffrey," he decided. "Yep." "Cool. I'm Leo. And, uh..." He pointed at me. "I understand you can, like, control this guy?" I cleared my throat. "We merely cooperate! I'm not controlled by anyone. Right, Meg?" "Slap yourself," Meg commanded. I slapped myself. Leo grinned. "Oh, this is too good. I'm going to check on Calypso, but later we need to talk." He slid down the ladder railings, leaving me with a deep sense of foreboding.

If you have ever tried to walk while immersed in a swift stream, you know how difficult it is. Also, if you have tried it, then may I ask why?

Lo!" I said. "I arrived at Camp Half-Blood as Lester Papadopoulos!" "A pathetic mortal!" Calypso chorused. "Most worthless of teens!" I glared at her, but I didn't dare stop my performance again. "I overcame many challenges with my companion, Meg McCaffrey!" "He means his master!" Calypso added. "A twelve-year-old girl! Behold her pathetic slave, Lester, most worthless of teens!" The policeman huffed impatiently. "We know all this. The emperor told us." "Shh," said Nanette. "Be polite." I put my hand over my heart. "We secured the Grove of Dodona, an ancient Oracle, and thwarted the plans of Nero! But, alas, Meg McCaffrey fled from me. Her evil stepfather had poisoned her mind!" "Poison!" Calypso cried. "Like the breath of Lester Papadopoulos, most worthless of teens!" I resisted the urge to push Calypso into the flower bed. Meanwhile, Leo was making his way towards the bulldozer under the guise of an interpretive dance routine, spinning and gasping and pantomiming my words. He looked like a hallucinating ballerina in boxer shorts, but the blemmyae politely got out of his way. "Lo!" I shouted. "From the Oracle of Dodona we received a prophecy - a limerick most terrible!" "Terrible!" Calypso chorused. "Like the skills of Lester, most worthless of teens!" "Vary your adjectives," I grumbled, then continued for my audience: "We travelled west in search of another Oracle, along the way fighting many fearsome foes! The Cyclopes we brought low!

One should never underestimate the healing power of music.

BEHOLD THE CHEDDAR!" [Leo] announced. "ALL HAIL THE CHEESE CONQUERORS!

I'm just a repair guy who can throw the occasional fireball.

Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now, take what’s left and live it properly. What doesn’t transmit light creates its own darkness. Commodus

Everyone knows that when advancing into danger, the soprano goes first. They are your infantry, while the altos and tenors are your cavalry, and the bass your artillery.

Meg McCaffrey, a girl of few words and much belching.

Don't blame me for you robbing the king's treasury!" I snarled. "You are here because you messed up." "I prayed to you!" "Well, perhaps you didn't pray for the right thing at the right time!" I yelled. "Pray for wisdom before you do something stupid! Don't pray for me to bail you out after you followed your worst instincts!

Leo's expression made him look as serious and dangerous as it was possible for a small elfin demigod to look in a little girl's overalls (a clean pair, mind you, which he'd intentionally found and put on). "I'm a son of Hephaestus, chica. I can problem-solve. This guy Lityerses tried to kill me and my friends once before. Now he's threatened Calypso? Yeah, I'll get us inside that palace. Then I'm going to find Lit and..." "Light him up?" I suggested, surprised by pleased to find I could speak again so soon after being told to shut up. "So he's literally lit?" Leo frowned. "I wasn't going to say that. Seemed to corny." "When I say it," I assured him, "it's poetry.

She stepped back and frowned at me. "Open it." "Me?" I felt sure she was picking on me because I was the only enslaved god she had. "I'm not Hermes! I'm not even Valdez!" "Try." As if that were a simple request! I attempted to get my fingertips under the edge and prise it open. I spread my arms and yelled the standard magic words: MELLON! SHAZAM! SESAME STREET! None of these worked. At last I tried my infallible ace in the hole. I sang 'Love Is an Open Door' from the Frozen soundtrack. Even this failed. "Impossible!" I cried. "This door has no taste in music!

A ROADSIDE STAND WHICH SELLETH FRESH EGGS. ‘Yes?’ THIS ROADSIDE STAND IS NOT IMPORTANT. KEEP DRIVING. ‘Apollo?

Back in medieval times, " I said, "we used oil of vitriol for its healing properties. No doubt that's why Commodus had some in his infirmary. Today we call it sulfuric acid." Meg flinched. "Isn't that dangerous?" "Very." "And you *healed* with it?" "It was the Middle Ages. We were crazy back then.

Leo plunked the cheese wheel in front of me. "Cut me a wedge of this, my good ma. Chop-chop!" I scowled at him. "Don't test me, Valdez. When I am a god again, I will make a constellation out of you. I will call it the Small Exploding Latino." "I like it!" He patted my shoulder, causing my knife to jiggle. Did no one fear the wrath of the gods any more?