They confused beauty with innocence and harmlessness.

Was this what it meant to love someone? That any burden was a burden shared, that they could give you comfort with a word or a touch?

I wouldn't cut you out of my life Clary, any more than I would cut off my right hand and give it to someone as a Valentine's Day gift." Gross," said Clary. "Must you?" Simon grinned. "I must.

"Simon,” said a voice at his shoulder, and he turned to see Izzy, her face a pale smudge between dark hair and dark cloak, looking at him, her expression half-angry, half-sad. “I guess this is the part where we say good-bye?

I think he’s handling it with grace. A lot of teenage boys would sulk, or lurk around under your window with a boom box.

Of course you realize you're leaving me in the position of being the one tell everyone - your mother, Luke, Alec, Izzy, Magnus..." "I guess I shouldn't have said there wouldn't be no risk to you," Clary said meekly. "That's right," said Simon. "Just remember, when your mothers's gnawing my ankle like a furious mama bear separated from her cub, I did it for you.

Will sat where he was, gazing at the silver bowl in front of him; a white rose was floating in it, and he seemed prepared to stare at it until it went under. In the Kitchen Bridget was still singing one of her awful sad songs; the lyrics drifted in through the door: "Twas on an evening fair I went to take the air, I heard a maid making her moan; Said, 'Saw ye my father? Or ye my mother? Or saw ye my brother John? Or saw ye the lad that I love best, And his name it is Sweet William?" I may murder her, Tessa thought. Let her make a song about that.