The only one who gets to canoodle in my bedroom is my magnificent self.
You know, when most girls say they want a big rock, they don’t mean, you know, literally a big rock. -Clary Fray to Jace Wayland.
There are some kinds of wounds you can get, internal injuries. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you’re bleeding to death slowly inside.
I love you; I love you and I don’t care that you’re my sister; don’t be with him, don’t want him, don’t go with him. Be with me. Want me. Stay with me. I don’t know how to be without you.
She supposed they were imperfections, those marks, but they didn’t feel that way to her; they were a history, cut into his body: the map of a life of endless war.
There was no Jace Wayland more real than the one he saw in her eyes when she looked at him.
One of the things he’d always loved about Clary was how easily caught up in her imagination she was, how easily she could wall herself away in illusory worlds of curses and princes and destiny and magic.
He’s my neophyte Downworlder to mock and boss around, not yours.
I can’t believe he took you to an actual resteraunt. I assumed his idea od a date would be making you watch him play World of Warcraft with his nerd friends.
Alec keeps sending me annoying photos. Lots of captions like Wish you were here, except not really.
I love you Clary. More then I ever – God. More than i probably should. You know that, don’t you?
Is this the part where you tell me you’re secretly in love with me? Vampire mojo strikes again.
It’s fascinating. You know all these words, and they’re all English, but when you string them together into sentences, they just don’t make any sense.
Hail and Farewell, my brother.
I think she just asked if she could touch my mango.
And I would do it again. I love you, Jace Wayland-Herondale-Lightwood-whatever you want to call yourself. I don’t care. I love you and I will always love you, and pretending it could be any other ways is just a waste of time.
But maybe you never really had someone, she thought now. Maybe, no matter how much you loved them, they could slip through your fingers like water, and there was nothing you could do about it.
Clary made fun of him about his new look; but, then, Clary found everything about Simon’s love life borderline hilarious.
You’re all he ever wants.
Don’t bother her, don’t try to talk to her, don’t even look at her, or I’ll fold you in half so many times you’ll look like a tiny little origami werewolf.