Not everything is about you," Clary said furiously. "Possibly," Jace said, "but you do have to admit that the majority of things are.

Yes...and I'm worried that if you get into the habit of making out with your instructors, you'll wind up making out with him too." "Don't be sexist. They could find me a female instructor." "In that case, you have my permission to make out with her as long as I can watch.

If you knew how to cook, maybe I would eat," Jace muttered. Isabelle froze, her spoon poised dangerously. "What did you say?" Jace edged toward the fridge. "I said I'm going to look for a snack to eat." That's what I thought you said." Isabelle turned her attention to the soup.

He had electric blue hair that had stuck around his head like tendrils of a startled octopus.

Perfect heroines, like perfect heroes, aren't relatable, and if you can't put yourself in the protagonist's shoes, not only will they not inspire you, but the book will be pretty boring.

All Lightwoods look the same to me—

The first one is always the hardest," he said. "The first?" "The first one you love who dies," he said. "It gets easier, after.