I think of myself as a freewheeling bisexual,' - Magnus Bane

I was Marked by a very cute boy with terrible impulse control. I don't remember because I was basically unconscious but everyone was mad at him when I woke up. The end, love Clary.

Clary: What are you doing here, anyway? Jace: 'Here' as in your bedroom or 'here' as in the great spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet? If you're asking whether it's all just a cosmic coincidence or there's a greater metaethical purpose to life, well, that's a puzzler for the ages. I mean, simple ontological reductionism is clearly a fallacious argument, but- Clary: I'm going to bed.

Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death.

He took her by the shoulders and pulled her closer to him, his fingers knotting in the fabric of her dress. Even more than in the attic, she felt caught in the eddy of a powerful wave that threatened to pull her over and under, to crush and break her, to wear her down to softness as the sea might wear down a piece of glass.

To love is to destroy, to destroy is to love. -Jace Herondale

Don't make it sound like that. Like some ordinary sort of grief. It's not like that. They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite. Over. This is a fresh wound every day.