I’m not unsympathetic. But do you like me? Because this being gay business doesn’t mean you can just throw yourself at any guy and it’ll be fine because he’s not a girl. There are still people you like and people you don’t.

Don't panic, but we've got an audience." Clary turned her head. Perched on a nearby tree branch was Hugo, watching them beadily from bright black eyes. So the sound she'd heard had been wings rather than demented passion. That was disappointing.

What’s your name, then? ”Tessa looked at him in disbelief. “What’s my name?” “Don’t you know it?

I know I told you once that whether God exists or not, we're on our own. But when I'm with you, I'm not.

Gold to airy thinness beat.

Do you think…" He raised his eyebrows. "Do I think what?" "That Valentine might have drowned?" "Never believe the bad guy is dead until you see a body," said Simon. "That just leads to unhappiness and surprise ambushes.

And now I’m looking at you,” he said, “and you’re asking me if I still want you, as if I could stop loving you. As if I would want to give up the thing that makes me stronger than anything else ever has. I never dared give much of myself to anyone before – bits of myself to the Lightwoods, to Isabelle and Alec, but it took years to do it – but, Clary, since the first time I saw you, I have belonged to you completely. I still do. If you want me.