So you are dying for love, then," Will said finally, his voice sounding constricted to his own ears. 'Dying a little faster for love. And there are worse things to die for.

Those of us who do not live forever do not like change perhaps as much as those of you who do.

If you really love something, you never try to keep it the way it is forever. You have to let it be free to change.

If you insist on disavowing that which is ugly about what you do, you will never learn from your mistakes.

Tessa had begun to tremble. This is what she had always wanted someone to say. What she had always, in the darkest corner of her heart, wanted Will to say. Will, the boy who loved the same books she did, the same poetry she did, who made her laugh even when she was furious. And here he was standing in front of her, telling her he loved the words of her heart, the shape of her soul. Telling her something she had never imagined anyone would ever tell her. Telling her something she would never be told again, not in this way. And not by him. And it did not matter. "It's too late", she said.

To be friends is a beautiful thing, Tessa, and I do not scorn it, but I have hoped for a long time now that we might be more than friends.

We're called Shadowhunters. At least, that's what we call ourselves. The Downworlders have less complimentary names for us.