Clary closed her eyes. Remembering the way Jace had looked at her the night she'd freed Ithuriel, she couldn't help but imagine the way he'd look at her now if he saw her trying to lie down to die on the sand beside him. He wouldn't be touched, wouldn't think it was a beautiful gesture. He'd be angry at her for giving up. He'd be so--disappointed.

I rather wonder what I am doing here. I enjoy city life, you know. The glittering lights, the constant companionship, the liquid entertainment. The lack of sudden monkeys.

But I think it has to do with what you believe about yourself. If you believe you're damned, then you are. But if you don't...

I'll need you to get a leash for my monkey, Claude, and also a hat." "Of course, monsieur" "Do you think he needs a little coat as well?" "Perhaps not in this weather, monsieur." "You are right," Magnus said with a sight. "Make it a simple dressing gown, just like mine." "Which one, monsieur?" "The one in rose and silver." "Excellent choice, monsieur.

Watching Jace hug Isabelle, she tried to school her features into a happy and loving expression. "Are you all right?" Simon asked, with some concern. "Your eyes are crossing.

Behind her, Jace moved out into the water with a contained grace that barely rippled the surface. Simon behind him, was splashing and cursing.

It was like a bad movie except he didn’t actually twirl his mustache.” -Jace to Maryse about Valentine, pg.122-