We came to see Jace. Is he alright?" "I don't know," Magnus said. "Does he normally just lie on the floor like that without moving?

It had been a whim, and there was nothing Magnus attached more importance to than a whim.

All right. Are you going to come back? Do you want any soup?" "No," said Jace. "Do you think Hodge will want any soup?" "No one wants any soup." "I want some soup," Simon said. "No, you don't," said Jace. "You just want to sleep with Isabelle." Simon was appalled. "That is not true." "How flattering," Isabelle murmured into the soup, but she was smirking. "Oh, yes it is," said Jace. "Go ahead and ask her—then she can turn you down and the rest of us can get on with our lives while you fester in miserable humiliation." He snapped his fingers. "Hurry up, mundie boy, we've got work to do.

Raphael snapped, "This isn't funny." "That's why no one's laughing." -Raphael & Jace, pg.272-

He seemed only ... annoyed. Annoyed, and sweaty, and hot. "Yeah, well," he said, "the next time you decide to sneak out of our magically warded apartment through a door that shouldn't really exist, leave a note.

I believe that authors don't have a responsibility to include "messages" in their work, but they do have a responsibility to write a world that seems true and real, never more than when expecting readers to believe in magic and angels and fairies.

When Jace opened the greenhouse door, the scent hit Clary, soft as the padded blow of a cat's paw.