I don't matter here, Shane. I feel like I just don't matter. Stupid, right?" "No," he said. He sounded so gentle it broke her heart. "It's how most people feel most of the time, Claire. You've grown up being special, and this is how most people live their lives...on their own, unnoticed. And they get used to that feeling. It's just new for you.

Who are you?" because even now, she couldn't let her questions go. "What are you?" That face that wasn't a face smiled. It was the most terrible thing she'd ever see, ever. "Magnus" he said. "I'm the end.

I love arguing with you, Claire. You always surprise me. And occasionally, you even make sense.

I am sorry my decisions do not meet with your approval, but nevertheless, they are mine, and the consequences are also mine.

Saint Claire, the patron saint of the kick-me sign.

God, it was hot! Forget about frying an egg on the sidewalk; this kind of heat would fry an egg inside the chicken.

Now could you please ask these idiots to stop pointing their bullets at me? It's terribly wasteful.