He had to think he was Michael Waylandโs son, or the Lightwoods would not have protected him as they did. It was Michael they owed a debt to, not me. It was on Michaelโs account that they loved him, not mine.โ โMaybe they loved him on his own account,โ said Clary.
Cassandra ClareI've always been happy with you," he said. "But I never thought I deserved it." "And now you do?" "And now the feeling's gone," he said. "All I know is that I love you and for the first time, that's good enough.
Cassandra ClareI don't think she doesn't believe she can die. I think, just like you always did, she believes there are things worth dying for.
Cassandra ClareYou may be the only guy my age I've ever met who knows what bergamot is, much less that it's in Earl Grey tea." "Yes, well," Jace said, with a supercilious look, "I'm not like other guys. Besides," he added, flipping a book off the shelf, "at the Institute we have to take classes in basic medicinal uses for plants. It's required." "I figured all your classes were stuff like Slaughter 101 and Beheading for Beginners." Jace flipped a page. "Very funny, Fray.
Cassandra ClareJem seemed to look through her then, as if he were seeing something beyond her, beyond the corridor, beyond the Institute itself. "Whatever you are physically," he said, "male or female, strong or weak, ill or healthy--all those things matter less than what your heart contains. If you have the soul of a warrior, you are a warrior. All those other things, they are the glass that contains the lamp, but you are the light inside." He smiled them, seeming to have come back to himself, slightly embarrassed. "That's what I believe.
Cassandra Clare