Oooh, that was fun." "That does it," said Jace. "I'm going to get you a dictionary for Christmas this year." "Why?" Isabelle said. "So you can look up 'fun.' I'm not sure you know what it means." Isabelle pulled the long heavy mass of her wet hair forward and wrung it out as if it were wet washing. "You're raining on my parade." "It's a pretty wet parade already, if you hadn't noticed." Jace glanced around.

He would look so young. They were both so young. Tessa knew it was unusual to marry at seventeen and eighteen, but they were racing a clock. The clock of Jem's life, before it wound down.

Not Magnus himself, who was more of a cross between a panther and a demented elf.

I am a man, and men do not drink pink drinks. Now, be gone, woman, and fetch me something brown." Jace said. "Brown?" said Isabelle. "Yes. Brown. It's a manly color. See? Alec is wearing it." Jace said. "Well, it was black but it faded." Alec said. "Well, I can always fix it up with something sparkly," Magnus said, holding a sparkley headband. "Resist the urge, Alec, resist the urge." Simon said.

Like letting spiders live because they eat mosquitoes, Clary thought. "So they're good enough to let live, good enough to make your food for you, good enough to flirt with-but not really good enough? I mean, not as good as people.

Lord, you're Irish," said Will. "Can you make things that don't have potatoes in them? We had an Irish cook once when I was a boy. Potato pie, potato custard, potatoes with potato sauce.

We cant go around picking up every pile of dust in the place just in case it turns out to be Gregor in the morning." -Pg.242-