Dear Alec, As your best friend and parabatai, I am offended not to have been asked to be your best man at the wedding. Et tu, Brutus. -Jace Alec, he really is upset. He hasn’t washed his hair in three days. -Clary.
Jace, There is no wedding! Stop Isabelle! Sit on her if you have to. Just stop her from doing whatever she’s doing or I can never come home. -Alec.
Dear Alec and Magnus, I known we’re not really close, but Isabelle just came by to drop off a pleated orange velvet tux that she claims I will be wearing to your wedding. Is this true, and if so, why orange? -Simon.
I know you worry about me needing you, but I shouldn’t be with you because I need you. I should be with you because I love you.
It was stupid to hope, she knew. But sometimes hope was all you had.
How she still thought of Max every day and it was like someone had emptied her lungs of air, and she would catch at her heart, afraid she was dying.
She hated that little voice inside her head. Like the Seelie Queen, it planted doubts where there shouldn’t be doubts, asked questions that had no answer.
You can never love me.
You might at least believe that I know honor- honor and debt.
I do not know two finer people and could not imagine better news. May your lives together be happy and long. Congratulations, brother.
Will’s hand looked brown and sunburnt by contrast, their fingers dovetailed together like piano keys.
He kissed each finger, and with each one of them spoken a word. Five kisses, five words. His last.
Not your parabatai any longer.
You are the Lightwoods – you are all that is left of the Lightwoods.
You’d better hurry up to the Gard and back. God knows what depravity we might get up to here without your guidance.
The warlock’s gaze, on the flames, was remote and distant, as if he were looking back into the past. Simon couldn’t help but remember what Magnus had said to him once, about living forever: Someday you and I will be the only two left.
It’s not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It’s like a million little paper cuts every day.
I don’t think she doesn’t believe she can die. I think, just like you always did, she believes there are things worth dying for.
He flushed, the colour dark against his pale skin. ‘I mean. Tessa Gray, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’ Jem...
I want what you want. Whenever you want it.