"Yeah, well, you clearly also couldn't be bothered to call me and tell me you were shacking up with some dyed-blond wanna-be goth you probably met at Pandemonium. After I spent the past three days wondering if you were dead." "I was not shacking up," Clary said, glad of the darkness as the blood rushed to her face. "And my hair is naturally blond," said Jace. "Just for the record."

As it turned out, everyone wanted a doughnut. Jace wanted two.

They had met at a club fifteen years before, Etta and Magnus. He had convinced her to dance with him, and she said she had been in love by the end of the song. He told her he had been in love before the beginning.

Clary closed her eyes. Remembering the way Jace had looked at her the night she'd freed Ithuriel, she couldn't help but imagine the way he'd look at her now if he saw her trying to lie down to die on the sand beside him. He wouldn't be touched, wouldn't think it was a beautiful gesture. He'd be angry at her for giving up. He'd be so--disappointed.

Demon Pox, oh, Demon Pox Just how is it acquired? One must first go to the bad part of town Until one is very tired Demon Pox, oh, Demon Pox I had it all along- No, not the pox, you foolish blocks I meant this very song- For i was right, and you were wrong!

There was no Jace Wayland more real than the one he saw in her eyes when she looked at him.

They confused beauty with innocence and harmlessness.