You know men. We have delicate egos.

But they love each other," Clary said, appalled. "Isn't that what love means? That you're supposed to be there for the other person to turn to, no matter what?" Luke looked toward the river, at the dark water moving slowly under the light of the autumn moon. "Sometimes, Clary," he said, "love just isn't enough.

She felt as if she had been running, and had created a hill and was racing down the other side, and there was no stopping now. Gravity was taking her where she had to go. "But -- everyone cares about something. Don't they?

Looking for an entirely reliable informant is like looking for a chaste mistress.

The Will I fell in love with, she almost said."And be Will," she finished instead. "Or I shall hit you with my umbrella.

I'm tired of watching you be in love with someone else someone who will never love you back, not the way I do.

So you’re suggesting we take the train up to York, meet a ninety-year-old man, leap on him, and yank out his hair? I’m sure the Clave will be ecstatic.” “They’ll just say you’re mad,” said Jessamine. “They already think it, so what’s the difference, really?