He caught her as if he were used to catching fainting girls, as if he did it everyday.

What about Isabelle?" Simon asked. "Where is she?" The humor, such as it was, left Jace's expression. "She won't come out of her room," he said. "She thinks that what happened to Max was her fault. She won't even come to the funeral." "Have you tried talking to her?" "No," Jace said, "we've been punching her repeatedly in the face instead. Why, do you think that won't work?" "Just thought I'd ask." Simon's tone was mild.

When you find a man you wish to marry, Tessa, remember this: You will know what kind of man he is not by the things he says, but by the things he does.

I wish I could hate you," he said. His voice was light, his mouth curved in an unconcerned half smile, his eyes sick with misery. "I want to hate you. I try to hate you. It would be so much easier if I did hate you. Sometimes I do hate you and then I see you and I.

He tried to learn seductive phrases in all languages, but the only Swedish he had ever really needed was, "Do you serve anything aside from pickled fish?" and "If you wrap me in furs, I can pretend to be your little fuzzy bear.

Your father," Luke said, "what did he say to you when you saw him? What did he promise you?" "Oh, you know. The usual. A lifetime's supply of Knicks tickets.

Come with me." "Come with you? To Pandemonium? To the Void? And here I thought that my invitation to summer in New Jersey was the worst I had ever received.