Explore Quotes by Rick Riordan

I’m the god of funerals. I know every death custom in the world—how to die properly, how to prepare the body and soul for the afterlife. I live for death.” “You must be fun at parties,” I said.

I didn’t know baboons could drive recreational vehicles, but Khufu did okay. When I woke up around dawn, he was navigating through the early morning rush hour in Houston, baring his fangs and barking a lot, and none of the other drivers seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.

We don’t have much time. Mel will be out of the restroom soon.” “You’ve got a magician named Mel?

His lion and hippo legs twitched. I wondered if netherworld monsters dreamed of chasing rabbits.

All I heard was the blood rushing through my ears, and the distant rumble and crackle of the Lake of Fire. (And Khufu scratching himself and grunting, but that was nothing new.)

Someday, you will make an excellent guardian ba.” “Thanks,” I muttered. “Can’t wait to be poultry forever.

Thanks for everything.” “As you wish,” the captain said. If axes could frown, I’m sure he would have. “Stay sharp,” Carter told him.

Anubis frowned. He locked his very nice eyes with mine. “You’re not dead.” “No,” I said. “Though we’re trying awfully hard.

Keep a demon busy, I thought. Right. Maybe he fancies a game of Tiddlywinks.

Why are they so sad?” I asked. “Well, they’re dead,” Carter speculated.

Most people call it The Book of the Dead,” he told me. “Rich Egyptians were always buried with a copy, so they could have directions through the Duat to the Land of the Dead. It’s like an Idiot’s Guide to the Afterlife.

Me? I slept like the dead, which I hoped wasn’t a sign of things to come.

The baboon is driving,” I noted. “Should I be worried?

Khufu carefully picked out everything that ended with-o—Doritos, Oreos, and some chunks of meat. Buffalo? Armadillo? I was scared to even ask.

I held out the painting of the cat and the snake. “It’s a cat and a snake,” Thoth said. Thank you, god of wisdom. You placed it for us to find, didn’t you? You’re trying to give us some sort of clue.” “Who, me?” Just kill him, Horus said. Shut up, I said. At least kill the guitar.

But how do we even get to the land of the dead?” I asked. “I mean…without dying.

I must admit I’m impressed, Sadie. You controlled your magic and controlled Isis. And you, Carter, did well turning into a lizard.

I’ll distract them,” Carter said. “You search. The Trophy room is through there.” “Carter!” But the fool ran off to protect me. I hate when he does that.

You wrote this right?” he said. “It tells how to defeat Set.” Thoth unfolded the papyrus pages. “Oh, dear. I hate reading my old work. Look at this sentence. I’d never write it that way now.” He patted his lab coat pockets. “Red pen—does anyone have one?” Isis chafed against my willpower, insisting that we blast some sense into Thoth. One fireball, she pleaded. Just one enormous magical fireball? I couldn’t say I was tempted, but I kept her under control. “Since when does drool make you powerful?

This is Graceland. Home of the most famous musician in the world.” “Michael Jackson lived here?” “No, dummy,” Carter said. “Elvis Presley.

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.