Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

"If there were such a thing as terminal literalism, you'd have died in childhood."

"And next time you're planning to injure yourself to get me attention, just remember that a little sweet talk works wonders."

"Words were weapons, his father had taught him that, and he'd wanted to hurt Clary more than he'd ever wanted to hurt any girl. In fact, he wasn't sure he had ever wanted to hurt a girl before. Usually he just wanted them, and then he wanted them to leave him alone."

"I forgot that's what gets you all hot and bothered, Jace, girls killing things.""I like anyone killing things, especially me."he said with a smile."

"Rule number one of anime,"Simon said. He sat propped up against a pile of pillows at the foot of his bed, a bag of potato chips in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He was wearing a black T-shirt that said I BLOGGED YOUR MOM and a pair of jeans that were ripped in one knee. "Never screw with a blind monk."

"That's why when major badasses greet each other in movies, they don't say anything, they just nod. The nod means, 'I' am a badass, and I recognize that you, too, are a badass,' but they don't say anything because they're Wolverine and Magneto and it would mess up their vibe to explain."

"Jace's eyes sparkled, but he said calmly, "Not at all. the Silent Brothers can help her retrieve her memories.""You hate the Silent Brothers,"protested Isabelle."I don't hate them,"said Jace candidly."I'm afraid of them. It's not the same thing.""I thought you said they were libarians,"said Clary."They are librarians."Simon whistled. "Those must be some killer late fees."