He leaned against the door frame, ignoring the kick of adrenaline the sight of her produced. He wondered why, not for the first time. Isabelle used her beauty like she used her whip, but Clary didn't know she was beautiful at all. Maybe that was why.

What are you? The voice came from nowhere. It was in the room. It was outside. It was in Magnus's head. "A warlock," Magnus answered. "And what are you?" We are many. "Please do not say you are a legion. Someone's taken that." Do you make mirth from mundane scriptures, warlock? "Just breaking the ice

Maryse sighed."Nothing conclusive.If only the dead could talk,eh,Lucian?

You know,” Cecily said, “you really didn’t have to throw that man through the window.

How can you not care?" "Practice," Magnus said, looking back to his book and turning the page.

I knew then that Jocelyn would never come back to me, because of you. You are the only thing in the world she ever loved more than she loved me. And because of that she hates me. And because of that, I hate the sight of you

For such a long time, when you're a writer, you really are just writing for yourself, and maybe a few friends. So it's really amazing when your book gets out there and more people are reading and responding to it. It really makes the world of the books feel real.