The Hidden Oracle (The Trials of Apollo, #1)

by Rick Riordan

I will never understand how you mortals tolerate it. You live your entire life trapped in a sack of meat, unable to enjoy simple pleasures like changing into a hummingbird or dissolving into pure light.

vaya con queso…I believe he is admonishing us to go with cheese, which is always sound advice.”

I simply don’t see the logic in your constant struggles. Exercise is nothing more than a depressing reminder that one is not a god.

I played a C minor scale. The B string was flat. It’s always the B string. Three thousand years since I invented the guitar (during a wild party with the Hittites—long story), and I still couldn’t figure out how to make a B string that stays in tune.

When one is a god, the world hangs on your every word. When one is sixteen…not so much.

Thank goodness for the Renaissance, when our Classical greatness was remembered. And then came the Internet. Oh, gods, I love the Internet! It is impossible for me to fade completely now. I am immortal on Wikipedia!”

only the deadliest prophecies are couched in the form of a limerick.

“Things can turn out differently, Apollo. That’s the nice thing about being human. We only have one life, but we can choose what kind of story it’s going to be.”

“Singing is good for the spirits. You should never miss an opportunity to sing.”