Jem leaned closer against the chair, staring into the fire. “Better it were my hands,” he said. Will shook his head. Exhaustion was muting the edges of everything in the room, blurring the flocked wallpaper into a single mass of dark color. “No. Not your hands. You need your hands for the violin. What do I need mine for?

Why does it take girls so long to shower?” he demanded. “Mortal girls, Shadowhunters, female warlocks, you‘re all the same. I‘m not getting any younger waiting out here.” -Magnus to Clary, pg.272-

Clary," Jace said again. "You know: short, redheaded, bad temper.

Isabelle's clothes looked ridiculous. Clary had to roll the legs on the jeans up several times before she stopped tripping on them, and the plunging neckline of the red tank top only emphasized her lack of what Eric would have called a "rack.

Everything changes in my life, and the world stays the same.

Not really, but after that I think about how I could kill him while he slept if I really wanted to, and then I feel better.

Charlotte, Will’s being vexing.' 'And the sun has come up in the east,' said Jem, to no one in particular.