If no one cares for you at all, do you even really exist?

Mr. Branwell and Mr. Carstairs seem to have no problem cleaning their boots,” Sophie said, looking darkly from Will to Tessa. “Perhaps you could learn from their example.” “Perhaps,” said Will. “But I doubt it.” Sophie scowled, and started off along the corridor again, her shoulders tightly set with indignation. Tessa looked at Will in amazement. “What was that?” Will shrugged lazily. “Sophie enjoys pretending she doesn’t like me.” “Doesn’t like you? She hates you!

I thought it'd be something cooler, like a van with 'Death to Demons' painted on the outside.

Simon-"From now on I will only adress people by nodding at them." Clary-"That's stupid why would you do that?" Simon-"Because it says that 'I am a badass, and I recognive that you too, are a badass

And spare me the jokes about scoring." "Dammit, woman, you read my mind," he said. "Is there no filthy wordplay you can't forsee?" "It's my special magical power. I can read your mind when you're thinking dirty thoughts." "So, ninety-five percent of the time.

You can keep it a secret.... But secrets have their own weight, and it can be a very heavy one.

You are Spider-Man!" she exclaimed. Simon glanced down from his perch halfway up the pillar. "That makes you Mary Jane. She has red hair.