Clary's mother apparently reguarded him as about as sexually threatening as a goldfish.

All right. Are you going to come back? Do you want any soup?" "No," said Jace. "Do you think Hodge will want any soup?" "No one wants any soup." "I want some soup," Simon said. "No, you don't," said Jace. "You just want to sleep with Isabelle." Simon was appalled. "That is not true." "How flattering," Isabelle murmured into the soup, but she was smirking. "Oh, yes it is," said Jace. "Go ahead and ask her—then she can turn you down and the rest of us can get on with our lives while you fester in miserable humiliation." He snapped his fingers. "Hurry up, mundie boy, we've got work to do.

My grandfather was a movie producer, and so I grew up on movie sets.

If I might ask--," she began. Will sighed. "You know you'll ask whether I say it's all right or not.

She seemed like a creature made to attract everyone and express nothing real, though it would take a master observer, like Magnus, to know it.

Being sixteen forever sounded good until you really thought about it. Then it didn't seem like such a great prospect.

In fiction, the actions of a villain, even when unspeakable, can be cathartic to read about. They let us experience darkness, but add a safe remove.