There is a coldness to the Clave, it is true. We are dust and shadows. But you are like the heroes of ancient times, like Achilles and Jason.” “Achilles was murdered with a poisoned arrow, and Jason died alone, killed by his own rotting ship. Such is the fate of heroes; the Angel knows why anyone would want to be one.

There is that. I might have better luck telling him I’m in love with him. Jace thinks everyone’s in love with him anyway.” “But I,” said Clary, “actually am.

When you told me the first time that Valentine was your father, I didn't believe it. Not just because I didn't want it to be true, but because you weren't anything like him. I've never thought you're anything like him. But you are. You are.

There was an electric anger in his gaze, and a sort of challenge that made Simon long to hit him with something heavy. Like a pickup truck.

All that existed was Jace; all she felt, hoped, breathed, wanted, and saw was Jace. Nothing else mattered.

The Nephilim - the bogeyman for monsters, and all those who could be monsters.

You understand my music.