Love didn't make you weak, it made you stronger.

He (Jace) glanced down at his bound hands. His wrists and shoulders had gone from aching to hard, stabbing pain, but he didn’t wince as the inquisitor regarded one of the blades, named it Jophiel, and plunged it into the polished wooden floorboards at her feet. He waited, but nothing happened. “Boom,” he said eventually. “Was something supposed to happen there?” ~pg.303~

Clary grinned. "A picnic? It's a little late for Central Park, don't you think? It's full of - " He waved a hand. "Faeries. I know." "I was going to say muggers," said Clary. "Though I pity the mugger who goes after you." "That is a wise attitude, and I commend you for it," said Jace, looking gratified.

Sebastian sighed an exaggerated sigh and swung the door shut. Clary stared at Jace. "What the f-" "Language, Fray." Jace's eyes danced. "Relax.

Mr. Rochester never courted Jane Eyre, Tessa pointed out. No, he dressed up as a woman and terrified the poor girl out of her wits. Is that what you want?

Whoever loves you now—and you must also love yourself—will love the truth of you.

Is this the part where you say if I hurt her, you'll kill me?" "No" Simon said, "If you hurt Clary she's quite capable of killing you herself. Possibly with a variety of weapons.