Filters are for cigarrettes and coffee," Simon muttered under his breath as they went inside. "Two things I could use right now, incidentally.

In some ways, we've been through something no one else can ever understand but the two of us... And it made me realize. We are always and absolutely better together.

Wait a second," Clary said. "I never understand why people say that," Luke said, to no one in particular. "I wasn't going anywhere.

Clary made fun of him about his new look; but, then, Clary found everything about Simon's love life borderline hilarious.

I've got the Mark of Cain," said Simon. "That means nothing can kill me, right?" "You can kill yourself," Magnus said, somewhat unhelpfully. "As far as I know, inanimate objects can accidentally kill you. So if you were planning on teaching yourself the lambada on a greased platform over a pit full of knives, I wouldn't." "There goes my Saturday.

Strangely, what pierced his heart and mind most sharply was not the memory of her lips under his at the ball, but the way she had leaned into his neck, as if she trusted him utterly. He would have given everything he had in the world and everything he would ever have, just to lie beside her in the narrow infirmary bed and hold her while she slept. Pulling away from her had been like pulling his own skin off, but he'd had to do it.

I don’t think Will Herondale and a sense of responsibility are even on speaking terms