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You'd think he'd ran out off rocks, I muttered

Rick Riordan

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Rick Riordan
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: June 5
Author
Novelist
Teacher
Writer
Military City
USA
Richard Russell Riordan
Jr.
Richard Russell Riordan Jr
Ran
Rocks
Think
Thinking
Muttered

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Do you always try to kill people when they blow their nose?
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I have to be careful. My readers are very detail-oriented, and if I make a mistake they'll call me on it.
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I thought about all the things I was suddenly able to do—like fight with a sword and summon a magical shell of armor. Those were not things I covered in home school.
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Terminus sniffed. “I guard borders. I don’t kill giants. It’s not in my job description.
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The Cyclopes growled, I don't see very well since the last hero poked my eye out, but you're... NO... LADY... CYCLOPES!
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Don't stay in one place too long. It was the only way to stay ahead of the sadness.
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Hope survives best at the hearth.
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Safety from what? Who's after me? Oh, nobody much, Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions.
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Monsters don't die. They just dissipate into smoke and dust, which saves heroes a lot of trouble cleaning up after a fight.
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Amy gritted her teeth. King Louis XVI even put Franklin's picture on a chamber pot! Jonah looked at his dad. Do we have souvenir chamber pots? No. His dad whipped out his phone. I'll make the call.
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On a basketball court, five players were in the middle of an intense game. They wore assortment of jerseys from different American teams, and they all seemed keen to win—grunting and snarling at each other, stealing the ball and pushing. Oh…and the players were all baboons.
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Survive first. Figure out crayon drawing of destiny later.
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See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyway. - Percy Jackson
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You're a stalker with hooves. I am not! I followed her to the Big House and hid in a bush and watched the whole thing.
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Mr. D, wearing his leopard-skin jogging suit and rummaging through the refrigerator. He looked up lazily. Do you mind? Where's Chiron! I shouted. How rude. Mr. D took a swig from a jug of grape juice. Is that how you say hello? Hello, I amended. We're about to die! Where's Chiron?
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She pulled away. “I missed you, Percy.” Percy wanted to tell her the same thing, but it seemed too small a comment. While he had been on the Roman side, he’d kept himself alive almost solely by thinking of Annabeth. I missed you didn’t really cover that.
Rick Riordan
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but I felt as if I’d just been Photoshopped out of my own book cover. And if there was one thing I wasn’t used to, it was being ignored
Rick Riordan
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You are one freaking awesome baboon.
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'You're Dionysus,' I said. 'The god of wine.' Mr. D rolled his eyes. 'What do they say these days, Grover? Do the children say Well duh!?' 'Y-yes, Mr. D.' 'Then, Well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?' 'You're a god.' 'Yes, child.' 'A god. You.'
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I named my camel Katrina. She was a natural disaster. She slobbered everywhere and seemed to think the purple streak in my hair was some kind of exotic fruit. She was obsessed with trying to eat my head. I named Walt's camel Hindenburg. He was almost as large as a zeppelin and definitely as full of gas.
Rick Riordan