"It's not gray,"Clary felt compelled to point out. "It's green.""If there was such a thing as terminal literalism, you'd have died in childhood,"said Jace."
"I'm not unhappy,"he said. "Only people with no purpose are unhappy. I've got a purpose."
"If there were such a thing as terminal literalism, you'd have died in childhood."
"I knew then that I hadn't stopped believing in God. I'd just stopped believing God cared. There might be a God, Clary, and there might not, but I don't think it matters. Either way we're on our own."
"What are all these?"Clary asked."Vials of holy water, blessed knives, steel and silver blades,"Jace said, piling the weapons on the floor beside him, "electrum wire - not much use at the moment but it's always good to have spares - silver bullets, charms of protetion, crucifixes, stars of David-""Jesus,"said Clary"I doubt he'd fit.""Jace."Clary was appalled."
"Where there is love, there is often also hate. They can exist side by side."