He took something out of his jacket and handed it to her. It was a long thin dagger in a leather sheath. The hilt of the dagger was set with a single red stone carved in the shape of a rose. She shook her head. "I wouldn't even know how to use that--" He pressed it into her hand, curling her fingers around it. "You'd learn." He dropped his voice. "It's in your blood." She drew her hand back slowly. "All right." "I could give you a thigh sheath to put that in," Isabelle offered. "I've got tons." "CERTAINLY NOT," said Simon.

I’m really grateful to you for saving us, Maia, and Jace is too, even though he’s so stubborn that he’d rather jam a seraph blade through his eyeball than say so. And don’t you say you hope he does,” she added hastily, seeing the look on the other girl’s face, “because that’s really not helpful.

Will looked as if he were being asked to believe in something impossible—snow in summertime, a London winter without rain.

You want a round table meeting, we can have a round table meeting." "I love round tables," said Magnus brightly. "They suit me so much better than square.

Love takes your choices away.

She did not belong to Will-she was too much herself to belong to anyone, even Jem-but she belonged with them, and silently he cursed the Consul for not seeing it.

Hope is not an illusion.