When the soul has left the body, it belongs to death. And it cannot be taken back without a price.

He'd felt like a jack-o-lantern for the past few days, as if his guts had been yanked out with a fork and dumped in a heap while a grinning smile stayed plastered on his face.

What you're blaming yourself for is being who you are. And that's no one's fault and nothing you can change.

It was at first almost as if he hadn't wanted to kiss her. His mouth was hard on hers, unyielding; then he put both arms around her and pulled her against him. His lips softened. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, taste the sweetness of apples still on his mouth. She wound her hands into his hair, as she'd wanted to do since the first time she'd seen him. His hair curled around her fingers, silky and fine. Her heart was hammering, and there was a rushing sound in her ears, like beating wings

There was something peculiarly gratifying about shouting in a blind rage until your words ran out.

Watching Jace hug Isabelle, she tried to school her features into a happy and loving expression. "Are you all right?" Simon asked, with some concern. "Your eyes are crossing.

I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet." At that he smiled. "How would you know what feet taste like?" "I just know.