But you've never drunk fresh blood. Have you?" Simon raised his own eyebrows in response."Well, aside from mine, of course," Jace said. "And I'm sure my blood is fan-tastic."Simon set the empty flask down on the arm of the chair by the bed. "There's something very wrong with you," he said. "Mentally, I mean.

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.

Jace shook his blond head in exasperation. "You had to make a crazy jail friend, didn't you? You couldn't just count ceiling tiles or tame a pet mouse like normal prisoners do?

We need to talk. All of us About what we're going to do now.""I was going to watch Project Runway.

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

I guess it’s true what they say," observed Jace. "There are no straight men in the trenches.""That’s atheists, jackass," said Simon furiously. "There are no atheists in the trenches.

Good. Because I don't need protecting.""I knew you'd say that.But the thing is, sometimes you do. And sometimes I do. We're meant to protect each other, but not from everything. Not from the truth. That's what it means to love someone but let them be themselves.

the [coat] rack above his head like a javelin.On the other side of the door was Jace. He blinked. "Is that a coatrack?"Jordan slammed the coatrack down on the ground and sighed. "If you'd been a vampire, this would have been a lot more useful.""Yes," said Jace. "Or, you know, just someone with a lot of coats.

Every time I think I'm missing a piece of me, you give it back.