You love him as a falcon loves his master who binds and blinds it.

Lord, you're Irish," said Will. "Can you make things that don't have potatoes in them? We had an Irish cook once when I was a boy. Potato pie, potato custard, potatoes with potato sauce.

Kill me, little sister. Kill me and you kill Jace, too.

Charlotte, Will’s being vexing.' 'And the sun has come up in the east,' said Jem, to no one in particular.

His blue eyes were very dark...Will's were the colour of the sky just on the edge of the night.

He remembered Simon warning him, with wryness, that Clary had the nuclear bomb of boyfriends.

Looking for an entirely reliable informant is like looking for a chaste mistress.