He'd woken up the next day in the city hospital with Magnus Bane staring down at him with an odd expression--it could have been deep concern or merely curiosity, it was hard to tell with Magnus.

Luke moved as silently as fog, while Maryse's heels sounded like gunshots on the marble floor. Clary wondered if Isabelle's propensity for unsuitable footwear was genetic.

One can love two children. But your heart can be given romantic love to only a single other, said Woolsey.

Well, thanks. It was nice of you to give me anything." The tension between them seemed to press down on her like humid air. "Better than a bath in spaghetti any day." He said darkly, "If you share that little bit of personal information with anyone, I may have to kill you." "Well, when I was five, I wanted my mother to let me go around and around inside the dryer with the clothes," Clary said. "The difference is, she didn't let me." "Probably because going around and around inside a dryer can be fatal," Jace pointed out, "whereas pasta is rarely fatal. Unless Isabelle makes it.

You mean you haven’t been going on romantic dates with Sebastian while you’ve been away from me?” “I tried,” Jace said, “but no matter how liquored up you get him, he just won’t put out.

Though you did eat all the pizza." "I only had five slices," Simon protested, leaning his chair backward so it balanced precariously on its two back legs. "How many slices did you think were in a pizza, dork?" Clary wanted to know. "Less than five slices isn't a meal. It's a snack." Simon looked apprehensively at Luke. "Does this mean you're going to wolf out and eat me?" "Certainly not." Luke rose to toss the pizza box into the trash. "You would be stringy and hard to digest.

Carstairs is alright, I suppose. If you like that sort.” “Oh?” “The taken. The uninterested.” “As opposed to… you, Gabriel?” “Well, yes.