Clary stopped dead in her tracks. "Simon?" "Oh, God," said Jace, sounding resigned. "And here I'd actually hoped I'd got hold of something interesting." -Clary and Jace pg. 114

I am glad,” he said. “They will be able to take care of each other when I am gone, or at least I can hope for it. He says she does not love him, but—surely she will come to love him in time. Will is easy to love, and he has given her his whole heart. I can see it. I hope she will not break it.

But am I clever and right or clever and wrong?

There are some mechanisms that are so—so broken that they cannot be repaired.

She felt as if she bled her regret and loneliness from her very pores, and yet she could not shape those feelings into any sentiment she could imagine her parents could bear reading.

Love did not overcome everything. Love did not always endure. All you had could be taken away, love could be the last thing you had, and then love could be taken too.

Why do you do these things to yourself? Not just what you did to the window, but the way you talked to Clary. What are you punishing yourself for? You can't help how you feel.