She smiled at him. โHow did you know just what Iโd want to see?โ โHow could I not?โ he said. โWhen I think of you, and you are not there, I see you in my mindโs eye always with a book in your hand.โ He looked away from her as he said it, but not before she caught the slight flush on his cheekbones. He was so pale, he could never hide even the least blush, she thought โ and was surprised how affectionate the thought was.
Cassandra ClareYou want this?" His voice was hoarse. "Yes," she said. "Do you?" His finger traced the outline of her mouth. "For this I would have been damned forever. For this I would have given up everything." She felt the burn behind her eyes, the pressure of tears, and blinked wet eyelashes. "Will ..." "Dw i'n dy garu di am byth," he said. "I love you. Always." And he moved to cover her body with his own.
Cassandra Clare(...)I don't know who I am. I look like Stephen Herondale, and I act like a Lightwood and I talk like my father- like Valentine. So I see myself in your eyes and i try to be that person and I think faith might be enough to make me who you wnat me to be." (Jace, to Clary)
Cassandra ClareAnd in some way, Clary thought, he meant it, meant his gratitude. He had long ago lost the ability to distinguish between force and cooperation, between fear and willingness, between love and torture. And with that realization came a rush of numbnessโwhat was the point of hating Valentine for being a monster when he didnโt even know he was one?
Cassandra ClareI was hoping they would put up flyers like they do for lost cats." He said. "Missing, one stunningly attractive teenage boy. Answers to 'Jace' or 'hotstuff'." "You did not just say that." "You don't like 'hotstuff'? You think 'sweet cheeks' might be better? "Love crumpet'? Really? That last one's stretching it a bit. Though, technically my family is British-
Cassandra Clare