Every memory was valuable; even the bad ones.

There was something peculiarly gratifying about shouting in a blind rage until your words ran out.

A diary with no drawings of me in it? Where are the torrid fantasies? The romance covers?

She jerked hastily back to avoid stepping on it, and her shoulder bumped his--he put a hand out to steady her, just as she turned to apologize and then she was somehow in the circle of his arm and he was kissing her.

But the person who stepped out of the front door was tall and thin, with short, spiky dark hair. he was wearing a gold mesh vest and a pair of silk pajama pants. He regarded Clary with mild interest, puffing gently on a fantastically large pipe as he did so. Though he looked nothing at all like a Viking, he was instantly and totally familiar. Magnus Bane

Tell me, is he always really rude, or does he save that for mundanes?

No matter what the price offered, no Downworlder would fail to listen to a warning against one of the nephilim.