She forces me to endure this ridiculous therapy, when the so-called counselors are little better than misguided do-gooders with degrees. -Artemis Fowl
A genius. A criminal mastermind. A millionaire. And he is only twelve years old.
It took teams of LEP warlocks to slow down time for a few hours; the magic required to open a door to the tunnel was stupendous. It would be easier to shoot down the moon. Opal tapped this into her notepad. Reminder. Shoot down the moon? Viable?
Me," Artemis blurted. "I'm the nut." Artemis could have sworn the squid winked at him before bringing the five-ton chunk of spacecraft swinging down toward the morsel of meat in its blue shell. "I'm the nut!" Artemis shouted again, a little hysterically, it must be said.
Really, I'm trying to care, Artemis, really. But I thought it was all supposed to be over when the fat lady sings. Well, she's singing, but it doesn't appear to be over
Artemis: (shocked) Why, Doctor? This is a sensitive area. For all you know I could be suffering from depression. Doctor Po: I suppose you could. Is that the case? Artemis: (head in hands) It's my mother, Doctor. Doctor Po: Yes? Artemis: My mother, she... Doctor Po: Your mother, yes? Artemis: She forces me to endure this ridiculous therapy when the school's so-called counsellors are little better than misguided do-gooders with degrees.
Orion brightened. "I have an idea." "Yes?" said Foaly, daring to hope that a spark of Artemis remained. "Why don't we look for some magic stones that can grant wishes? Or, if that doesn't work, you could search my naked body for some mysterious birthmark that means I am actually the prince of somewhere or other.
We're being lead by an idiot with a crayon.
I am charging you with the protection of my mother and friends, not to mention keeping my younger self off the Internet. He is as dangerous as Opal.
No matter what dimension you're in, there's a big-headed male trying to take over the world.