They belonged to each other totally, and always would, and that was that. But maybe everyone felt that way? Until the moment they realized they were just like everyone else, and everything they'd thought was real shattered apart.

As Luke knelt down beside his corpse, Clary couldn’t help but remember what he had said about having loved Valentine once, about having been his closest friend. Luke, she thought with a pang. Surely he couldn’t be sad — or even grieved? But then again, perhaps everyone should have someone to grieve for them, and there was no one else to grieve for Valentine.

I don't think she doesn't believe she can die. I think, just like you always did, she believes there are things worth dying for.

Wo wei ni xie de,” he said, as he raised the violin to his left shoulder, tucking it under his chin. He had told her many violinists used a shoulder rest, but he did not: there was a slight mark on the side of his throat, like a permanent bruise, where the violin rested. “You — made something for me?” Tessa asked. “I wrote something for you,” he corrected, with a smile, and began to play.

the action we take in the name of love,those are moral or immoral.and normally it wouldn't matter

Must I go bound while you go free Must I love a manwho doesn't love me Must I be born with so little art As to love a man who'll break my Heart

This is bad," said Jace. "You said that before." "It seemed worth repeating.