Will looked as if he were being asked to believe in something impossible—snow in summertime, a London winter without rain.

How strange to have the power to literally transform yourself into other people, and yet be so unable to put yourself in their place.

Your plans are suicidal. At best.

Will's Father's gaze went immediately to Gabriel, and then to Cecily, his eyes narrowing. "And who is this gentlemen?" Will's grin widened. "Oh him," he said. "This is Cecliy's friend, Mr. Gabriel Lightworm." Gabriel, half in the act of stretching his hand to greet Mr. Herondale, froze in horror. "Lightwood," he sputtered. "Gabriel Lightwood.

Whenever I see interesting names, I jot them down. I've found them in lots of different places: on the news, in the phone book, even on hotel registry lists.

I don't care what you think. You're not my brother," Clary said. "You're a murderer." "I really don't see how those things cancel each other out," said Sebastian.

Your place is with me. It always will be. -Jem Carstairs