It’s like a cotillion, this partners business, except with killing.” “So, exactly like a cotillion,” said Simon.

He was still stroking the inside of her wrist, his touch doing odd delicious things to her skin and nerves.

Will remembered the two of them, running through the dark streets of London, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, seraph blades gleaming in their hands; hours in the training room, shoving each other into mud puddles, throwing snowballs at Jessamine from behind an ice fort in the courtyard, asleep like puppies on the rug in front of the fire.

I'm not so sure about this wind and howling darkness business," Jace went on, "smells more like landfill to me. You sure you're not from Staten Island?

Do reasons matter when there's nothing that can be done to change things.

I love you; I love you and I don’t care that you’re my sister; don’t be with him, don’t want him, don’t go with him. Be with me. Want me. Stay with me. I don’t know how to be without you.

You have a dark heart in you, Valentine's daughter.