What are you? The voice came from nowhere. It was in the room. It was outside. It was in Magnus's head. "A warlock," Magnus answered. "And what are you?" We are many. "Please do not say you are a legion. Someone's taken that." Do you make mirth from mundane scriptures, warlock? "Just breaking the ice

He began it,” Cecily said, jerking her chin at Will, though she knew it was pointless. Jem, Will’s parabatai, treated her with the distant sweet kindness reserved for the little sisters of one’s friends, but he would always side with Will. Kindly, but firmly, he put Will above everything else in the world. Well, nearly everything.

Sometimes when she looks at him that way he finds himself almost blushing; a feeling so strange he almost doesn’t recognize it. Jace Wayland doesn’t blush.

She looked up at him with a smile. The smile broke what was left of his resistance - shattered it. He had let the walls down when he'd thought she was gone, and there was no time to build them back up. Helplessly he pulled her against him. For a moment she clung to him tightly, warm and alive in his arms. Her hair brushed his cheek. The color had come back into the world; he could breathe again, and for that moment he breathed her in - she smelled of salt, blood, tears, and Tessa.

My Romanian is pretty much limited to useful phrases like, 'Are these snakes poisonous?' and 'But you look much too young to be a police officer.

Magnus gazed dreamily in his direction. "You should leave him here. I could hang hats on him and things.

I can offer you my life, but it is a short life; I can offer you my heart, though I have no idea how many more beats it shall sustain