(...)I don't know who I am. I look like Stephen Herondale, and I act like a Lightwood and I talk like my father- like Valentine. So I see myself in your eyes and i try to be that person and I think faith might be enough to make me who you wnat me to be." (Jace, to Clary)

Clary?” Jace tilted his head to the side, studying her face. “You do—you still love me, don’t you?” “I love Jace Lightwood,” she said. “I don’t know who you are.

He banged on the side of the carriage. "Thomas! We must away at once to the nearest brothel. I seek scandal and low companionship.

Because you told me you don't have feelings for me anymore, and you see, that's very akward, because I still have them for you. And I bet you know it.

Never doubt my weaseling abilities, Shadowhunter, for they are epic and memorable in their scope.

It made him feel indispensable and needed - even if the fact that Jocelyn didn't appear to care wheather he slept in her daughter's bed or not did underscore that Clary's mother apparently regarded him as about sexually threatening as a goldfish.

So much saintlike patience cannot be good for anyone.