What’s that poem again?” Will, who had been twirling his empty teacup around his fingers, stood up straight and declaimed: “Each spake words of high disdain, And insult to his heart’s best brother—” “Oh, by the Angel, Will, do be quiet,” said Charlotte, standing up. “I must go and write a letter to Aloysius Starkweather that drips remorse and pleading. I don’t need you distracting me.” And, gathering up her skirts, she hurried from the room. “No appreciation for the arts,” Will murmured, setting his teacup down.

I played it for my bride, and one day you will play for yours.

She'd rather hoped for something simple, like a lined piece of notebook paper with MY EVIL PLAN written across the top, but no luck.

I don't care who her mother is," Magnus said. "You can't see me with out an appointment. Come back later. Next March would be good," "March?" Sebastian looked horrified. "You're right," Magnus said, "Too rainy. How about June?

My blood in his veins." ~Jace

I am a demon hunter. Clearly, I am not afraid of the dark.

He has become a worm. That is what I am telling you." "I don't suppose it would be possible," said Henry into the silence, "to, er, step on him?