Every life is finite, Will.

Magic is dangerous- but love is more dangerous still

I dislike boats," Ragnor observed, looking around. "I get vilely seasick." The turning green joke was too easy. Magnus was not going to stoop to make it.

Simon!” The voice was Clary’s. He would know it anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense memory of what he’d most loved during life to carry him through the process of death. “Simon, you stupid idiot! I’m over here! At the window!” Simon jumped to his feet. He doubted his mind would conjure that up.

She had taken him for granted, she thought with surprise and shame, watching the flickering candlelight. She had assumed his kindness was so natural and so innate, she had never asked herself whether it cost him any effort. Any effort to stand between Will and the world, protecting each of them from the other. Any effort to accept the loss of his family with equanimity. Any effort to remain cheerful and calm in the face of his own dying.

I fell in love with you," he said, "because you were one of the bravest people I'd ever known. So how could I ask you to stop being brave just because I loved you?" He ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up in loops and curls that Clary ached to smooth down. "You came for me," he said. "You saved me when almost everyone else had given up, and even the people who hadn't given up didn't know what to do. You think I don't know what you went through?

And lo and behold, my diabolical plan is working.