Lord, you're Irish," said Will. "Can you make things that don't have potatoes in them? We had an Irish cook once when I was a boy. Potato pie, potato custard, potatoes with potato sauce.

How many times have I told you, Magnus? Behave professionaly in a professional setting. Which means no being rude to Nephilim, and also no getting attached to Nephilim." "I never get attached to Nephilim!" Magnus protested. Ragnor coughed, and in the midst of the cough said something that sounded like "blerondale." "Well," said Magnus. "Hardly ever.

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.

I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet." At that he smiled. "How would you know what feet taste like?" "I just know.

Dudes," He said, "Do not follow other dudes to the bathroom." Isabelle sighed. "Latent homosexual panic will do you in every time

Will: "Nice place to live, isn't it? Let's hope they left something behind other than filth. Forwarding addresses, a few severed limbs, a prostitute or two ..." Jem: "Indeed. Perhaps, if we're fortunate, we can still catch syphilis." "Or demon pox," Will suggested cheerfully, trying the door under the stairs.

He is a Shadowhunter,” said Jocelyn. “His loyalty will be to Clave and Covenant.” “He’s my friend,” said Magnus coldly. “His loyalty is to me.