How awfully convenient for you, regardless. And for him. He won't have to worry about you spilling his secrets." "Yeah," Jace said. "He's terrified I'll tell everyone that he's always wanted to be a ballerina.

Here's a hot tip: Most girls don't like being stalked.

I think there is hope for you yet, Will Herondale. I will try to learn how to have it, without you to show me. Tessa, Jem said. She knows despair, and hope as well. you can teach each other. Find her, Will, and tell her that I loved her always. My blessings, for all that it is worth, is on you both.

You may have the worst timing since Napoleon decided the dead of winter was the right moment to invade Russia.

His beauty did not blaze like Will's did in fierce colors and repressed fire, but it had its own muted perfection, the loveliness of snow falling against a silver gray sky.

All right. Are you going to come back? Do you want any soup?" "No," said Jace. "Do you think Hodge will want any soup?" "No one wants any soup." "I want some soup," Simon said. "No, you don't," said Jace. "You just want to sleep with Isabelle." Simon was appalled. "That is not true." "How flattering," Isabelle murmured into the soup, but she was smirking. "Oh, yes it is," said Jace. "Go ahead and ask her—then she can turn you down and the rest of us can get on with our lives while you fester in miserable humiliation." He snapped his fingers. "Hurry up, mundie boy, we've got work to do.

Magnus had been alive hundreds of years himself, and yet the simplest things could turn a day into a jewel, and a succession of days into a glittering chain that went on and on. Here was the simplest thing: a pretty girl liked him, and the day shone.