He had lost Will Herondale. And he did not know if he could ever get him back.

My ideas often come from strong mental images. When I'm observing some relatively ordinary thing, I'll think, "What if...." and out of that brainstorming a story emerges.

The only time people turned to watch her go by was when she hurtled past them as she fell.

Drowning yourself won't help, she told herself sternly. Now, drowning Will, on the other hand.

I can't tell them what to do!" "Why not?" the other girl demanded. "Honestly, Clary, if you don't start utilizing a bit of your natural feminine superiority, I just don't know what I'll do with you.

And I remind you of your mother now? I have got to look into a manlier cologne.

As Magnus turned to walk away from the church, he heard the sound of violin music carried to him on the cloudy London air, and remembered another night, a night of ghosts and snow and Christmas music, and Will standing on the steps of the Institute, watching Magnus as he went.