Someday," Magnus said, looking at the crumpled royal person at his feet, "I must write my memoirs.

My mother always told me if I rode a motorcycle with a boy, she'd kill me." ... She couldn't hear him laugh, but she felt his body shake. "She wouldn't say that if she knew me," he called back to her confidently. "I'm an excellent driver." -Clary & Jace, pg.289-

"A date," Jace repeated. "Often a 'boring thing you have to memorize in history class," but in this case,' 'an offer of a n evening of blisteringly white-hot romance with yours truly.'"

Now very much against her will, she thought of the way Jace had looked at her then, the blaze of faith in his eyes, his belief in her. He had always thought she was strong. He had showed it in everything he did, in every look and every touch. Simon had faith in her too, yet when he'd held her, it had been as if she were something fragile, something made of delicate glass. But Jace had held her with all the strength he had, never wondering if she could take it--he'd known she was as strong has he was.

All I know is that I love you. And for the first time, that's good enough.

And when Jace was ten years old, Valentine killed him. Michael, I mean." "That sounds like something he would do," said Luke. His tone was neutral, but there was something in his voice that made Clary look at him sideways. Did he not believe her? "Jace saw him die, " she added, as if to bolster her claim. "That's awful," said Luke. "Poor messed-up kid.

Oh, come on," Clary said. "You're a vampire, not Spider-Man.