Clary," Jace said again. "You know: short, redheaded, bad temper.

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.

No matter what the price offered, no Downworlder would fail to listen to a warning against one of the nephilim.

And the Clave wants to meet Clarissa. You know that, Jace." "The Clave can screw itself." "Jace," Maryse said, sounding genuinely parental for a change. "Language." "The Clave wants a lot of things," Jace amended. "It shouldn't necessarily get them all.

Unhappy? I was lucky. So, so lucky. And I couldn’t see it.” His eyes met hers. “I love you,” he said. “And you make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And now that I know what it’s like to be someone else—to lose myself—I want my life back. My family. You. All of it.” His eyes darkened. “I want it back.

It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them.

[Will Herondale] would say he knew a warlock who was a better friend, and more worth trusting, than many a nephilim warrior.