It's a girl," Jace said, recovering his composure. "Surely you've seen girls before, Alec. Your sister Isabelle is one.

Clary squinted at it. 'Is it going to turn me into a rodent?''Where's the trust? I think it's strawberry juice,' Isabelle said. 'Anyway, it's yummy. Jace?' She offered him the glass.'I am a man,' he told her, 'and men do not consume pink beverages. Get thee gone, woman, and bring me something brown.''Brown?' Isabelle made a face.'Brown is a manly color,' said Jace, and yanked on a stray lock of Isabelle's hair with his free hand. 'In fact, look- Alec is wearing it.

And now I’m looking at you,” he said, “and you’re asking me if I still want you, as if I could stop loving you. As if I would want to give up the thing that makes me stronger than anything else ever has. I never dared give much of myself to anyone before – bits of myself to the Lightwoods, to Isabelle and Alec, but it took years to do it – but, Clary, since the first time I saw you, I have belonged to you completely. I still do. If you want me.

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.

But you have to learn to bend a little,” said Clary with a yawn. Despite the story’s content, the rhythm of Jace’s voice had made her sleepy. “Or you’ll break.” “Not if you're strong enough,” said Jace firmly.

If you’re being punished,” Clary said, “then so am I. Because all those things you felt, Ifelt them too, but we can’t—we have to stop feeling this way, because it’s our onlychance.”Jace’s hands were tight at his sides. “Our only chance for what?”“To be together at all. Because otherwise we can’t ever be around each other, not evenjust in the same room, and I can’t stand that. I’d rather have you in my life even as abrother than not at all

Jace,” she said. “Why are you doing this to me?”“Because you’re lying to me. And you’re lying to yourself.” Jace’s eyes were blazing, and even though his hands were stuffed into his pockets, she could see that they were knotted into fists.

Surely, she was too young to have so many ghosts.

Isabelle: Do you want some soup?Jace: NoIsabelle: Do you think Hodge will want some soup?Jace: No one wants soupSimon: I want some soup!Jace: No, you don't. You just want to sleep with Isabelle