Words have the power to change us.

Life is a book, and there are a thousand pages I have not read. I would read them together with you, as many as I can, before I die -" She put her hand against his chest, just over his heart, and felt its beat against her palm, a unique time signature that was all its own. "I only wish you would not speak of dying," she said. "But even for that, yes, I know how you are with your words, and, Will- I love all of them. Every word you say. The silly ones, the mad ones, the beautiful ones, and the ones that are only for me. I love them, and I love you.

Clary closed her eyes. Remembering the way Jace had looked at her the night she'd freed Ithuriel, she couldn't help but imagine the way he'd look at her now if he saw her trying to lie down to die on the sand beside him. He wouldn't be touched, wouldn't think it was a beautiful gesture. He'd be angry at her for giving up. He'd be so--disappointed.

He’s very pretty. For a human.” “He’s very broken,” said Magnus. “Like a lovely vase that someone has smashed. Only luck and skill can put it back together the way it was before.

If you were half as funny as you think you are, you'd be twice as funny as you are now.

Demon hunting and fashion," Clary said. "I never would have thought they went together.

You might want to lie down," Magnus advised. "I find that it helps when the crushing sense of horrible realization sets in.