He remembered Simon warning him, with wryness, that Clary had the nuclear bomb of boyfriends.

Forever and ever, brother, hail. Forever and ever, farewell.

Not everything is about you," Clary said furiously. "Possibly," Jace said, "but you do have to admit that the majority of things are.

God knows we’re all drawn to what’s beautiful and broken.

Nothing less than 7 inches.

And in some way, Clary thought, he meant it, meant his gratitude. He had long ago lost the ability to distinguish between force and cooperation, between fear and willingness, between love and torture. And with that realization came a rush of numbness—what was the point of hating Valentine for being a monster when he didn’t even know he was one?

try me on any day that doesn't end in y - Jace