You are not the last dream of my soul. You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth.

It's the mortal cup Jace, not the mortal toilet bowl.

I think the main thing to remember when writing a novel is to stay true to the characters.

We are all the pieces of what we remember. We hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.

By the Angel," Jace said, looking the demon up and down. "I knew Greater Demons were meant to be ugly, but no one ever warned me about the smell." Abbadon opened its mouth and hissed. Inside its mouth were two rows of jagged glass-sharp teeth. "I'm not sure about this wind and howling darkness business," Jace went on, "smells more like landfill to me. You sure you're not from Staten Island?

Alec slid his hand from Jace's arm to his shoulder. Magnus cleared his throat. Alec dropped his hand. Simon grinned into his undrunk coffee.

She felt as if she had been running, and had created a hill and was racing down the other side, and there was no stopping now. Gravity was taking her where she had to go. "But -- everyone cares about something. Don't they?