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.
You know, when someone prefers their own brother over you, it isn’t a confidence booster.
You’re a public menace. You shouldn’t be allowed out on your own.
They belonged to each other totally, and always would, and that was that. But maybe everyone felt that way? Until the moment they realized they were just like everyone else, and everything they’d thought was real shattered apart.
All that running and getting nowhere, he thought. Story of my life.
Oh, good. You’re starting to talk about yourself in the third person. That’s not a sign of impending megalomania or anything.
So you interrupted my date to make fun of me for still living with my parents. Couldn’t you have done that on a night I didn’t have a date? That’s most nights, in case you’re curious.