It's not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It's like a million little paper cuts every day.

Nicely done, brother," said Gabriel from the bed, blinking sleepy green eyes at Gideon. Gideon threw a scone at him.

Oh, its big enough,” he said patronizingly, “but somehow I was expecting…you know.” He gestured with his hands, indicating something roughly the size of a house cat. “It’s the Mortal Cup, Jace, not the Mortal Toilet Bowl,” said Isabelle. -Jace & Isabelle, pg.349-

nothing ventured, nothing gained.

He didn't know what books meant to her, that books were symbols of truth and meaning.

Her eyes met his, but she looked quickly away; entangling gazes with Will was confusing at best, dizzying at worst.

It doesn't matter how many times you say it. It'll still be true.' 'And it doesn't matter what you won't let me say, that'll still be true too.