It was like a bad movie except he didn’t actually twirl his mustache.” -Jace to Maryse about Valentine, pg.122-

Suddenly reminded, she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh- Simon!" "No, I'm Jace," he said patiently. "Simon is the weaselly little one with the bad haircut and dismal fashion sense.

In fiction, the actions of a villain, even when unspeakable, can be cathartic to read about. They let us experience darkness, but add a safe remove.

Tessa looked quickly to Will, but he only crossed the room as he always did to lean against the fireplace mantel. Cecily had never been able to decide if he did this because he was perpetually cold or because he thought he looked dasing standing before the leaping flames.

"You guessed? You must have been pretty sure, considering you could have killed me." "I was ninety percent sure." "I see," Clary said. There must have been something in her voice, because he turned to look at her. Her hand cracked across his face, a slap that rocked him back on his heels. He put his hands on his cheek, more in surprise than pain. "What the hell was that for?" "The other ten percent."

One more thing," Jace said. "Is there a holy place around here?" “Good idea. If you're going to take on a lair of vampires by yourself, you'd better pray first.

Was this what it meant to love someone? That any burden was a burden shared, that they could give you comfort with a word or a touch?