You kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire. He had wondered once why love was always phrased in terms of burning. The conflagration in his own veins, now, gave the answer.

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

If You don't give readers what they want, they'll be mad at you. If you give them what they do want, they'll be even more mad at you.

Jace hated it when other people were worried on his behalf. It made him feel like maybe there really was something to worry about.

Isabelle and Jace had left the topic of dead Shadowhunters behind and had moved on to something Jace apparently found even more horrifying__Isabelle's date with Simon. "I can't believe he took you to an actual restaurant." Jace was on his feet now, putting away the floor mats and training gear while Isabelle leaned against the wall and played with her new gloves. "I assumed his idea of a date would be making you watch him play World of Warcraft with his nerd friends." "I," Clary pointed out, "am one of his nerd friends, thank you.

Maybe that was why she couldn't cry, she realized, staring dry-eyed at the ceiling. Because what was the point in crying when there was no one there to comfort you? And what was worse, when you couldn't even comfort yourself?

Being remembered, and remembered so kindly, touched him more than he would have thought possible.