Only mundanes say they're sorry when what they mean is "I share your grief,"' Jace observed.

We shouldn’t,” protested Isabelle. “The Clave has a plan.” “The Clave has the collective intelligence of a pineapple,” said Jace. Alec blinked up at them. “Jace is right.” Isabelle turned on her brother. “What do you know? You weren’t even paying attention.” “I was,” Alec said, injured. “I said Jace was right.” “Yeah, but there’s like a 90% chance of me being right most of the time, so that’s not proof you were listening,” said Jace. “That’s just a good guess.

I see you're determined to miss my point." "If you're point is that there was a pretty girl in the room and it was distracting you, then I think I've taken your point handily." "You think she's pretty?" Will was surprised; Jem rarely opinioned this sort of thing. "Yes, and you do too." "I hadn't noticed, really." "Yes, you have, and I've noticed you noticing.

I think you'll find that one would be self-defeating." Jace said lightly shoving his feet into his boots. "We are bound, he and I. Cut him and I bleed.

Whatever you are physically,' he said, 'Male or female, strong or weak, ill or healthy -- all those things matter less than what your heart contains. If you have the soul of a warrior, you are a warrior. Whatever the color, the shape, the design of the shade that conceals it, the flame inside the lamp remains the same. You are the flame.

If I made a joke about just dropping by, would you write me off as cliché?

No one can say that death found in me a willing comrade, or that I went easily.