Kissing Simon was pleasant. It was a gentle sort of pleasant, like lying in a hammock on a summer day with a book and a glass of lemonade

But the person who stepped out of the front door was tall and thin, with short, spiky dark hair. he was wearing a gold mesh vest and a pair of silk pajama pants. He regarded Clary with mild interest, puffing gently on a fantastically large pipe as he did so. Though he looked nothing at all like a Viking, he was instantly and totally familiar. Magnus Bane

I wouldn't call that an instrument of music," Ragnor observed sourly. "An instrument of torture, perhaps.

Alec," Magnus said. He put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder; Alec was standing still, staring angrily at the floor. "Are you okay?" Alec looked at him. "Who are you again?" Magnus gave a little gasp; he looked — for the first time Simon could remember — actually unnerved. It lasted only a moment, but it was there. "Alexander," he said. "Too soon to joke about the happy memory thing, I take it," Alec said.

There was no way possible [the queen] could have done all of the things the pamphleteers claimed. The crimes were too gross, too immoral and far too physically challenging. Magnus himself had never attempted half of them.

Sebastian sighed an exaggerated sigh and swung the door shut. Clary stared at Jace. "What the f-" "Language, Fray." Jace's eyes danced. "Relax.

Someday, Will, I will go where none can follow me, and I think it will be sooner rather than later. Have you ever asked yourself why I agreed to be your parabatai?