Or maybe it's just that beautiful things are so easily broken by the world.

Exsanguinated," said Jace, impressed. "That's a big word." "And you're a big-" "Tsk tsk," he interrupted. "No swearing in church.

I would leave at once, but it would be cruel to abandon a lady in a foreign land with a maniac.

(...)I don't know who I am. I look like Stephen Herondale, and I act like a Lightwood and I talk like my father- like Valentine. So I see myself in your eyes and i try to be that person and I think faith might be enough to make me who you wnat me to be." (Jace, to Clary)

He saved your life,” Clary pointed out. “Details,” said Simon dismissively.

They’re not hideous,” said Tessa. Will blinked at her. “What?” “Gideon and Gabriel,” said Tessa. “They’re really quite good-looking, not hideous at all.” “I spoke,” said Will, in sepulchral tones, “of the pitch-black inner depths of their souls.” Tessa snorted. “And what color do you suppose the inner depths of your soul are, Will Herondale?” “Mauve,” said Will.

She shook her head. She was so pale under the diffuse lamp-light that she looked almost transparent, as if Simon could have looked right through her. The way, he supposed, he always had.