The Silent brothers are doing nude cartwheels in the hallways

Jem is nothing but goodness. That he struck you last night only shows how capable you are of driving even saints to madness.

Now this is really going to impress Valentine." "I don't know," Clary said. "Other crack teams get bat boomerangs and wall-crawling powers; we get the Aquatruck." "If you don't like it, Nephilim," came Magnus's voice, faintly, from the truck cab, "you're welcome to see if you can walk on the water.

I would have thought even a certified idiot like Gabriel here would have taken account of it and notified someone." "Notified who?" asked Jem, not unreasonably. He had moved closer to Tessa as the conversation had continued. As they stood side by side, the backs of their hands brushed. "The Clave. The postman. Us. Anyone," said Will, shooting an irritated look at Gabriel, who was starting to get some color back and looked furious. "I am not a certified idiot—" "Lack of certification hardly proves intelligence," Will muttered.

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

That's right," he said. "I created a a bunch of Forsaken Warriors, had them attack the Institute and kill Madeleine and nearly kill the rest of us, just so that I could keep Clary from at home. And lo and behold, my diabolical plan is working.

But maybe you never really had someone, she thought now. Maybe, no matter how much you loved them, they could slip through your fingers like water, and there was nothing you could do about it.