Oh, God, the lovebirds,” Magnus said, pulling the pillow off his face. “I hate happy couples.

Perfect heroines, like perfect heroes, aren't relatable, and if you can't put yourself in the protagonist's shoes, not only will they not inspire you, but the book will be pretty boring.

Clary didn't ask what that was. She was busy trying not to fall over. The ground was heaving up and down under her feet. "Jace," she said, and crumpled into him. He caught her as if he were used to catching fainting girls, as if he did it every day. Maybe he did.

Will looked as if he were being asked to believe in something impossible—snow in summertime, a London winter without rain.

A rune, hovering like an angel: a shape like two wings joined by a single bar.

He's not here." "Not here like he just popped around the corner to the bodega for a six-pack of Diet Coke and a box of Krispy Kremes, or not here like.

Sweet pea?'" Alec said. "I was just trying it out." Alec shook his head. "No." Magnus shrugged. "I'll keep at it.