You know, some people think Shadowhunters are just myths. Like mummies and genies." Kyle grinned at Jace. "Can you grant wishes?" "That depends," he said. "Do you wish to be punched in the face?

What’s that poem again?” Will, who had been twirling his empty teacup around his fingers, stood up straight and declaimed: “Each spake words of high disdain, And insult to his heart’s best brother—” “Oh, by the Angel, Will, do be quiet,” said Charlotte, standing up. “I must go and write a letter to Aloysius Starkweather that drips remorse and pleading. I don’t need you distracting me.” And, gathering up her skirts, she hurried from the room. “No appreciation for the arts,” Will murmured, setting his teacup down.

But you have to learn to bend a little," "Or you'll brake." -Clarissa Fray

Ouch,” Jace said in her ear, his tone indignant. “You elbowed me.” “Well, you landed on me.

I am a badass, and I recognize that you, too, are a badass.

She looked around. They had drifted far away from the bank of the canal. "Are we stealing this boat?" "Stealing' is such an ugly word," he mused. "What do you want to call it?" He picked her up and swung her around before putting her down. "An extreme case of window-shopping.

We’re Nephilim. Every one of our life’s passages has some mystical component — our births, our deaths, our, marriages, everything has a ceremony and a rune. There is one as well if you wish to become someone’s parabatai. It’s no small commitment.