One must look at the next step on the path ahead, rather than the mountain in the distance, or one would never reach one's goal.

The way Magnus’ breath had sounded, rattling in his chest, before he’d said his father’s name.

He’s very pretty. For a human.” “He’s very broken,” said Magnus. “Like a lovely vase that someone has smashed. Only luck and skill can put it back together the way it was before.

He took something out of his jacket and handed it to her. It was a long thin dagger in a leather sheath. The hilt of the dagger was set with a single red stone carved in the shape of a rose. She shook her head. "I wouldn't even know how to use that--" He pressed it into her hand, curling her fingers around it. "You'd learn." He dropped his voice. "It's in your blood." She drew her hand back slowly. "All right." "I could give you a thigh sheath to put that in," Isabelle offered. "I've got tons." "CERTAINLY NOT," said Simon.

His beauty did not blaze like Will's did in fierce colors and repressed fire, but it had its own muted perfection, the loveliness of snow falling against a silver gray sky.

Was it weird hearing from Jace?" asked Simon, his voice carefully neutral. "I mean, since you found out..." His voice trailed off. Yes?"said Clary, her voice sharply edged. "Since I found out what? That he's a killer transvestite who molests cats?" No wonder that cat of his hates everyone." Oh, shut up, Simon," Clary said crossly.

It's been so long that I think I was unsettled by the idea of feeling like I belonged anywhere. But you made me feel like I belong.