"What's this?"he demanded, looking from Clary to his companions, as if they might know what she was doing there."It's a girl,"Jace said,recovering his composure. "Surely you've seen girls before, Alec. Your sister Isabelle is one."
"Is this the part where you start tearing off strips of your shirt to bind my wounds?""If you wanted me to rip my clothes off, you should have just asked."
"The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he'd learned: that to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed."
"If there were such a thing as terminal literalism, you'd have died in childhood."
"And when I saw him[my father] lying dead in a pool of his own blood, 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 be not. Either way, we're on our own."
"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."