Mundies die awfully easily, don't they?" "Isabelle, you know it's bad luck to talk about death in a sickroom.

It’s me,” said Jace. “Watching me play Scrabble is enough to make most women swoon. Imagine if I actually put in some effort.

If you run into a psychic wall face-first, do you wind up with psychic bruises? -Clary, pg.239-

Everything that happens to you matters to me.

What is one person's pleasure is another's poison.

Don't panic, but we've got an audience." Clary turned her head. Perched on a nearby tree branch was Hugo, watching them beadily from bright black eyes. So the sound she'd heard had been wings rather than demented passion. That was disappointing.

I may be a killer," Jace said, "but I know what I am. Can you say the same?