Crying wouldn't help anything now.

Well, you'll have to wait till tomorrow. I'm out of commission." (he points to his shirt) "Look. Jammies.

He's my neophyte Downworlder to mock and boss around, not yours.

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

By the Angel, Bridget’s depressing,” said Henry, setting down his newspaper directly on his plate and causing the edge to soak through with egg yolk. Charlotte opened her mouth as if to object, and closed it again. “It’s all heartbreak, death and unrequited love.” “Well, that is what most songs are about,” said Will. “Requited love is nice, but it doesn’t make much of a ballad.

Dear me," said Will, and he took another bite of his apple. "Is it because I'm better-looking than you?

No. That's Clary; shes's my best friend." Simon pocketed his phone. "And she has a boyfriend. Like, really, really, really has a boyfriend. The nuclear bomb of boyfriends. Trust me on this one.