This was a voice that drew out memories stretched thin by years of recollection, like paper unfolded and refolded too many times. A voice that brought back, like a wave, the memory of another time on this bridge, a night so long ago, everything black and silver and the river rushing away under her feet.

Weapons, when they break and are mended, can be stronger at the mended places. Perhaps hearts are the same.

You don't understand,' she said, and there was a puzzling trace of resentment in her voice. 'Children never do. The love a parent has for a child, there's nothing else like it. No other love so consuming.

Pain is only what you allow it to be

Exsanguinated," said Jace, impressed. "That's a big word." "And you're a big-" "Tsk tsk," he interrupted. "No swearing in church.

While the Clave disapproves of trespassers, oddly they take an even darker view of beheading and skinning people. They're peculiar that way.

Why, oh why, had Jace picked a fight with a pack of wolves? What had possessed him? Then again, it was Jace. He'd pick a fight with a Mack truck if the urge took him. -Clary, pg.40-