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Inanimate objects are harmless indeed, Mr. Mortmain. But one cannot always say the same of the men who use them.
Perfect heroines, like perfect heroes, aren't relatable, and if you can't put yourself in the protagonist's shoes, not only will they not inspire you, but the book will be pretty boring.
The thing about the Mirror is that no one knows where it is. In fact, no one knows what it is.” "It’s a mirror,” Simon said. “You know – reflective, glass. I’m just assuming.
I can't believe he didn't have the dignity and presence of mind just to get drunk and pass out in some gutter," said Jace. "I must say, I'm disappointed in the little fellow.
I stabbed you. With a massive sword. You caught on fire." His lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Okay, so maybe our problems aren't like other couples.
I guess it’s true what they say," observed Jace. "There are no straight men in the trenches." "That’s atheists, jackass," said Simon furiously. "There are no atheists in the trenches.
Suddenly reminded, she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh- Simon!" "No, I'm Jace," he said patiently. "Simon is the weaselly little one with the bad haircut and dismal fashion sense.
Investigation?" Isabelle laughed. "Now we're detectives? Maybe we should all have code names." "Good idea," said Jace. "I shall be Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein.
You're not going," he said as soon as she'd finished. "If I have to tie you up and sit on you until this insane whim of yours passes, you are not going to Idris." - Jace
If you ever meet the man who could take advantage of Isabelle, you’ll have to let me know. I’d like to shake his hand. Or run away from him very fast, I’m not sure which.
Don't." Clary raised a warning hand. "I'm not really in the mood right now." "That's got to be the first time a girl's ever said that to me," Jace mused.
Beautiful. He'd called her beautiful. Nobody had ever called her that before, except her mother, which didn't count. Mothers were required to think you were beautiful.
Fresh is better. But you've never drunk fresh blood. Have you?" Simon raised his eyebrow in response. "Well, aside from mine of course," Jace said. "And I'm pretty sure my blood is fan-tastic.
His beauty did not blaze like Will's did in fierce colors and repressed fire, but it had its own muted perfection, the loveliness of snow falling against a silver gray sky.
Jace looked as if she had slapped him. "Why are you determined not to believe us?" "Because she loves you," said Valentine. Clary felt the blood drain out of her face.
Jace slammed his hand down on the stele. “Clary-“ “She said she doesn’t want it,” said Simon. “Ha-ha.” “Ha-ha?” Jace looked incredulous. “That’s your comeback?