It's your gift, to see the beauty and the horror in ordinary things. It doesn't make you crazy, just different.

She shook her head. She was so pale under the diffuse lamp-light that she looked almost transparent, as if Simon could have looked right through her. The way, he supposed, he always had.

Izzy," said Jace, as they neared the pond, and she jumped up and spun around. Her smile was dazzling. "Jace!" She flew at him and hugged him. Now that was the way sisters were supposed to act, Clary thought. Not all stiff and weird and peculiar, but happy and loving. 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." "I'm fine." Clary abandoned the attempt. "Are you sure? You looked sort of… contorted.

When I was a little kid, I realized that if you say any word over and over fast enough, it loses all meaning. I'd lie awake saying the words over and over to myself--'sugar,' 'mirror,' 'whisper,' 'dark.' 'Sister,'" he said softly. "You're my sister." "It doesn't matter how many times you say it. It'll still be true." "And it doesn't matter what you won't let me say, that'll still be true too.

I’m not unsympathetic. But do you like me? Because this being gay business doesn’t mean you can just throw yourself at any guy and it’ll be fine because he’s not a girl. There are still people you like and people you don’t.

If there was an arrow speeding toward Will, I would be bound by oath to step in front of it.' 'Handy, that,' said Will.

But-Jace what are you doing?' 'Finishing my shower. And if you‘ve made me run through all the hot water, I‘ll be very annoyed.