Faeries are fallen angels," said Dorothea, "cast down out of heaven for their pride." "That's the legend," Jace said. "It's also said that they're the offspring of demons and angels, which always seemed more likely to me. Good and evil, mixing together. Faeries are as beautiful as angels are supposed to be, but they have a lot of mischief and cruelty in them. And you'll notice most of them avoid midday sunlight—" "For the devil has no power," said Dorothea softly, as if she were reciting an old rhyme, "except in the dark.

I believe that authors don't have a responsibility to include "messages" in their work, but they do have a responsibility to write a world that seems true and real, never more than when expecting readers to believe in magic and angels and fairies.

Wherever we are, we are as one

I thought you were dead,” she went on. “I saw you fall down, and—I thought you were dead.

Actually," said Jace, "I prefer to think that I'm a liar in a way that's uniquely my own.

The warlock's gaze, on the flames, was remote and distant, as if he were looking back into the past. Simon couldn't help but remember what Magnus had said to him once, about living forever: Someday you and I will be the only two left.

I'm tired of watching you be in love with someone else someone who will never love you back, not the way I do.