The way Magnus’ breath had sounded, rattling in his chest, before he’d said his father’s name.

Their beauty had always seemed to him like the beauty of pressed flowers-lovely, but dead.

I didn't get this dressed up to watch you mess around in the gutter with a bunch of motorcycles." "They are pretty to look at," said Jace. "You have to admit that." "So am I," said Isabelle.

Jem: I know what you're thinking. Tessa:I don't think you do. You're think, If they call this damp nastiness summer, what must winter be like? You'd be surprised. Winter's actually much the same. It's spring that's really lovely. Tessa:Is it? Jem:No. It's actually quite foggy and wet as well.

So it's true. You can walk in sunlight. I thought perhaps it might have worn off." "If I feel the urge to burst into flames, I'll let you know.

Do you have a lot of other profound thoughts like that? Blood is blood? A toaster is a toaster? A Gelatinous Cube is a Gelatinous Cube?

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-