Every book is different with it's own personality just like children.

One of the things he'd always loved about Clary was how easily caught up in her imagination she was, how easily she could wall herself away in illusory worlds of curses and princes and destiny and magic.

I am nothing if not gracious," Will said. His eyes searched Jem's face, that face as familiar to him as his own. "And determined. You will not leave me. Not while I live.

It’s fascinating. You know all these words, and they’re all English, but when you string them together into sentences, they just don’t make any sense.

Clary: What are you doing here, anyway? Jace: 'Here' as in your bedroom or 'here' as in the great spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet? If you're asking whether it's all just a cosmic coincidence or there's a greater metaethical purpose to life, well, that's a puzzler for the ages. I mean, simple ontological reductionism is clearly a fallacious argument, but- Clary: I'm going to bed.

Facilis descensus Averno Noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis Sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras Hoc opus labor est

[Magnus] was wearing canary-yellow pajamas, and on his feet were green slippers with alien faces, complete with sproingy atennae.