They also said she was unconscious and that Valentine wasn’t happy about it. He seems to be waiting for her to wake up.” “I’d stay unconscious if I were her,” Isabelle muttered.

I would never date a girl who insisted that I cut you out of my life. It’s non-negotiable. You want a piece of all this fabulousness?” He gestured at himself. “Well, my best friend comes along with it. I wouldn’t cut you out of my life, Clary, any more than I would cut off my right hand and give it to someone as a Valentine’s Day gift.” “Gross,” said Clary. “Must you?” He grinned. “I must.

It was like I saw your soul in the notes of the music. And it was beautiful." She leaned forward and touched his face lightly, the smooth skin over his hard cheekbone, his hair like feathers against the back of her hand. "I saw rivers, boats like flowers, all the colors of the night sky.

Love isn't a weakness.

We had and incident. I took care of it." "Really." Jace's voice dripped sarcasm. "Do you even know how to use that knife, Clarissa? Without poking a hole in yourself or any innocent bystanders?

So you’re suggesting we take the train up to York, meet a ninety-year-old man, leap on him, and yank out his hair? I’m sure the Clave will be ecstatic.” “They’ll just say you’re mad,” said Jessamine. “They already think it, so what’s the difference, really?

Going round and around inside a dryer can be fatal, whereas pasta is rarely fatal. Unless Isabelle makes it.