The weapons room looked exactly the way something called "the weapons room" sounded like it would look.

It's not funny, Jace," Alec interrupted, starting to his feet. "Are you just going to let her stand there and call me names?" "Yes," Jace said kindly. "It'll do you good-- try to think of it as endurance training.

Mom. I have something to tell you. I’m undead. Now, I know you may have some preconceived notions about the undead. I know you may not be comfortable with the idea of me being undead. But I’m here to tell you that undead are just like you and me … well, okay. Possibly more like me than you.

I've got the Mark of Cain," said Simon. "That means nothing can kill me, right?" "You can kill yourself," Magnus said, somewhat unhelpfully. "As far as I know, inanimate objects can accidentally kill you. So if you were planning on teaching yourself the lambada on a greased platform over a pit full of knives, I wouldn't." "There goes my Saturday.

I can't tell them what to do!" "Why not?" the other girl demanded. "Honestly, Clary, if you don't start utilizing a bit of your natural feminine superiority, I just don't know what I'll do with you.

[...] He tasted like snowflakes and wine, like winter and Will and London.

Kill me, little sister. Kill me and you kill Jace, too.