In Paris one could have the eyes of a cat (as he did) and tell people it was a trick of fashion.

Not enough," he said, letting her hair slip through his fingers. "If I kiss you all day, everyday, for the rest of my life, it won't be enough.

And what if I'm the one who kills him?" "My heart is your heart," he said, "My hands are your hands.

He took her by the shoulders and pulled her closer to him, his fingers knotting in the fabric of her dress. Even more than in the attic, she felt caught in the eddy of a powerful wave that threatened to pull her over and under, to crush and break her, to wear her down to softness as the sea might wear down a piece of glass.

I have important business to get to. I plan to sulk all afternoon, followed, perhaps, by an evening of Byronic brooding and a nighttime of dissipation.

It's all right to love someone who doesn't love you back, as long as they're worth you loving them. As long as they deserve it.

Do you remember what I told you that first time at Taki's? About faerie food?" "I remember you said you ran down Madison Avenue naked with antlers on your head", said Clary, blinking silver drops off her lashes.