Have you tried talking to her?" "No. We've been punching her in the face repeatedly. What? You don't think that will work?

It's Will," she said. "He's being absolutely ridiculous in the dining room." Charlotte looked puzzled. "How is this different from him being totally ridiculous in the library or the weapons room or any of the other places he's usually ridiculous?

How they loved each other, these three, how they had suffered for each another, and yet how much joy they clearly took from simply being in the same room.

You're a disaster for us, Clary! You're a mundane, you'll always be one, you'll never be a Shadowhunter! You don't know how to think like we do, think about what's best for everyone-- all you think about is yourself! But there's a war now, or there will be, and I don't have time or the inclination to follow around after you, trying to make sure you don't get us killed! Go home, Clary. Go home!

You stole a boat,” she snapped. “What am I doing with you, you boat-stealing lunatic?

Please don’t do this—don’t do this to me. If anything happened to you—” He looked at her with surprise. There was already a red stain on the white bandages that wrapped his chest, where his movements had pulled his wound open. “I…” “What?” “I’m not used to you loving me,” he said.

I like in books when we start the book and you really don't know how it's going to turn out.