I guess you're coming as my date now." Simon shoved the phone into his pocket. "I'm secure enough in my masculinity to accept that," said Jordan. "We better get you something nice to wear, though," he called as Simon headed back into his room. "I want you to look pretty.

And I would do it again. I love you, Jace Wayland-Herondale-Lightwood-whatever you want to call yourself. I don't care. I love you and I will always love you, and pretending it could be any other ways is just a waste of time.

Clary wondered how many boyfriends she'd turned into rats by accident. -Clary to Isabelle, pg.245-

He held her close enough to kiss, close enough to whisper the most important secrets in the world, and he spoke to her as he would have wanted some good angel to speak to his family, to his own shivering young soul, long ago and in a land far away.

Though Alec had never seen the occupants of the first floor loft, they seemed to be engaged in a tempestuous romance. Once there had been a bunch of someone's belongings strewn all over the landing with a note attached to a jacket lapel addressed to "A lying liar who lies." Right now there was a bouquet of flowers taped to the door with a card tucked among the blooms that read I'M SORRY. That was the thing about New York: you always knew more about your neighbors' business than you wanted to.

They all have always loved you, Will Herondale, for you cannot hide what is good about yourself, however hard you try.

With God on your side, what does luck matter?