He grinned. It was a wicked grin, the kind that made the blood in Clary's veins run a little faster. "You want to go on a date?" Caught off guard, she stammered. "A wh-what?" "A date," Jace repeated. "Often 'a boring thing you have to memorize in history class,' but in this case, 'an offering of an evening of blisteringly white-hot romance with yours truly." "Really?" Clary was not sure what to make of this. "Blisteringly white-hot?" "It's me," said Jace. "Watching me play Scrabble is enough to make most women swoon. Imagine if I actually put in some effort.

It is easier to confront a threat as a mass, a group, not individuals who must be evaluated one by one.

She jerked hastily back to avoid stepping on it, and her shoulder bumped his--he put a hand out to steady her, just as she turned to apologize and then she was somehow in the circle of his arm and he was kissing her.

-Nunca dejaría de creer en ti -dijo-. Jamás. Lo que siento por ti...-Se atracó-. Es lo más grande que he sentido en mi vida. [pp.78]

I keep thinking about blood, I dream about it. Wake up thinking about it. Pretty soon I'll be writing morbid emo poetry about it.

You cannot save every fallen bird," said Woolsey. "One will do," said Magnus.

My blood in his veins." ~Jace