The poet's scrolls will outlive the monuments of stone. The Genius survives all else is claimed by death.

The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring, His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.

Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.

She bathed with roses red, And violets blew. And all the sweetest flowres That in the forrest grew.

So let us love, dear Love, like as we ought; Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.

I was promised on a time To have reason for my rhyme; From that time unto this season, I received nor rhyme nor reason.

Thankfulness is the tune of angels.

All for love, and nothing for reward.

Be bold, and everywhere be bold.

For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.

Men, when their actions succeed not as they would, are always ready to impute the blame thereof to heaven, so as to excuse their own follies.

If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.

Every student, Shadowhunter and mundane alike, knew the name Herondale. It was Jace’s last name. It was the name of heroes.

I often think of random melodies. And I pretty much hear in my head what I want to do with the orchestra as I'm writing on the piano.

I drew the curtains to conceal the sight of my father's farewell; my spite was sharp as broken glass.

Some people are larger than life. Hitler is larger than death.

Telegram to a friend who had just become a mother after a prolonged pregnancy: Good work, Mary. We all knew you had it in you.

We lavender folk spray up, spontaneously flowering in the color we had learned as an identifying mark of our culture when it was subterranean and secret.

My thought has been shaped by books; my desires by pictures.

I have often regretted what I have eaten, but never what I have drunk.

Life keeps getting better. If anything, you start to carry a certain pride in having survived all those years.