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

The kitchen was bright, cheerful yellow, the walls decorated with framed chalk and pencil sketches Simon and Rebecca had done in grade school. Rebecca had some drawing talent, you could tell, but Simon's sketches of people all looked like parking meters with tufts of hair.

She had no recollection, later, of having decided what to do next, or of having hunted for something to wear, but somehow she was hurrying down the stairs, dressed in shadowhunter gear, the letter in one hand and the chain with the ring clasped hastily around her throat.

"Yeah, well, you clearly also couldn't be bothered to call me and tell me you were shacking up with some dyed-blond wanna-be goth you probably met at Pandemonium. After I spent the past three days wondering if you were dead." "I was not shacking up," Clary said, glad of the darkness as the blood rushed to her face. "And my hair is naturally blond," said Jace. "Just for the record."

I would give you everything of myself. I would give you more in two weeks than most men would give you in a lifetime.

He (Jace) glanced down at his bound hands. His wrists and shoulders had gone from aching to hard, stabbing pain, but he didn’t wince as the inquisitor regarded one of the blades, named it Jophiel, and plunged it into the polished wooden floorboards at her feet. He waited, but nothing happened. “Boom,” he said eventually. “Was something supposed to happen there?” ~pg.303~

Dear Alec & Magnus, It's Izzy. Got your card. Glad you're having fun. Nothing's happening here-Clary's mom is marrying some werewolf. I think you guys should get married too. I'm thinking about planing it. I love planing parties. -Isabelle