The Sword of Summer (Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, #1)

by Rick Riordan

My name is Magnus Chase. I’m sixteen years old. This is the story of how my life went downhill after I got myself killed.

“You missed a pedestrian,” I said. “You want to go back and hit her?”

“The statue of Leif Erikson…Does that mean the Vikings—er, the Norse—discovered Boston? I thought the Pilgrims did that.” “I could give you a three-hour lecture on that topic alone.” “Please don’t.” “Suffice it to say, the Norse explored North America and even built settlements around the year 1000, almost five hundred years before Christopher Columbus. Scholars agree on that.” “That’s a relief. I hate it when scholars disagree.”

“Myths are simply stories about truths we’ve forgotten.”

“Yo!” I caught the sleeve of his cashmere coat. “Rewind to the part about a Norse god being my pappy.”

“Cool down, man. I have a corroded piece of metal and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Stupid magical hotel wouldn’t even allow me to properly vandalize things.

Hearthstone Passes Out Even More than Jason Grace (Though I Have No Idea Who That Is)

“And another thing!” he yelled. “Giving me away so you could marry a giantess? Dude, what was that? Blades before babes, you know what I’m saying?”

“This has always been true. I hung from the World Tree for nine days and nights, racked with pain, in order to discover the secret of runes. I stood in line in a blizzard for six days to discover the sorcery of the smartphone.”