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I looked into his eyes, and I realized he was the same man I'd seen in my dreams. His face might be totally different, but the same soul was in there, the same intelligence and all the sadness.
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
Might
Dreams
Different
Seen
Men
Eyes
Face
Sadness
Faces
Realized
Eye
Totally
Dream
Intelligence
Soul
Looked
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Sometimes, it takes us a while to appreciate something new, something that might change us for the better.
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Cabin Fifteen does that to everyone, Annabeth warned. If you ask me, this place is even more dangerous than the Ares cabin. At least with Ares, you can learn where the land mines are. Land mines?
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Our secret weapon, Khione! We're not just a bunch of demigods. We're a team.
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Back when I taught middle school and wrote adult mysteries, my students often asked me why I wasn't writing for kids. I never had a good answer for them. It took me a long time to realize they were right.
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Why didn’t you sleep with the headrest?” I shrugged. “It was uncomfortable.” I looked at Sadie for support. “You didn’t use it, did you?” Sadie rolled her eyes. “Well, of course I did. It was obviously there for a reason.
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I'd missed Annabeth probably more than I wanted to admit.
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Oh, don't mind me! Just the queen of the heavens, dying over here!
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Our baboon was going completely sky goddess - which is to say, nuts.
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I missed him so much I would sometimes turn to tell him something before I forgot he was gone. In spite of all that, and all the emotion boiling around inside me, all I could think of to say was: “You’re blue.
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True success requires sacrifice.
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I sailed on the cold air currents above the rooftops of Paris. I could see the river, the Louvre Museum, the gardens and palaces. And a mouse-yum. Hang on, Carter, I thought. not hunting mice.
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A giant vulture with a girl hanging from its feet tends to attract attention.
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That really was NOT fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? NOT fun.
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I left him in his wheelchair, staring sadly into the fireplace. I wondered how many times he’d sat here, waiting for heroes that never came back.
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Traitor! Hera shouted. You meddlesome, D-list goddess! You aren't worthy to pour my wine, much less rule the world.
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Schist, said an angry voice from the grass. Hazel raised her eyebrows. Excuse me? Schist! Big pile of schist!
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Until she met the exploding statue, Annabeth thought she was prepared for anything.
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So I took her hand, and I don't know what everybody else heard, but to me it sounded like a slow dance: a little sad, but maybe a little hopeful, too.
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