You don't need to worry, though. He's not my type." "I don't think I've ever heard a girl say that before," said Simon. "I thought Jace was the kind of guy who was everyone's type.

He looks," Simon had once said to Isabelle, "like he's thinking about something deep and meaningful, but if you ask him what it is, he'll punch you in the face.

If You don't give readers what they want, they'll be mad at you. If you give them what they do want, they'll be even more mad at you.

Cecy, what are you doing here?" She took a step forward, then paused on the threshold, glancing down at her bare feet. “I could ask of you the same.” “I like to talk to the horses at night. They make good company. And you should not be out and about in your nightgown. There are Lightwoods wandering these halls.

I've always been happy with you," he said. "But I never thought I deserved it." "And now you do?" "And now the feeling's gone," he said. "All I know is that I love you and for the first time, that's good enough.

He landed on his back amid a tangled pile of clothes. "Isabelle," Simon protested weakly, "do you really think this is going to make you feel any better?" "Trust me," Isabelle said, placing a hand on his chest, just over his unbeating heart. "I feel better already.

what did wards matter when you could create your own reality just by drawing it?