He was wearing a look that she found odd and compelling - that amusement that didnโt seem to pass beyond the surface of his features, as he found everything in the world both infinitely funny and infinitely tragic all at the same time.
Cassandra ClareShe supposed they were imperfections, those marks, but they didn't feel that way to her; they were a history, cut into his body: the map of a life of endless war.
Cassandra ClareLooking at her, he was in London again. He saw the gaslight and smelled the smoke and dirt and horses, the metallic tang of fog, the flowers in Kew Gardens. He saw a boy with black hair and blue eyes like Alec's. A girl with long brown curls and a serious face. In a world where everything went away from him eventually, she was one of the few remaining constants.
Cassandra Clare