Pain Made You Strong. Loss Made You

And In Some Way, Clary Thought, He Meant It, Meant His Gratitude. He Had Long Ago Lost The Ability To Distinguish Between Force And Cooperation, Between Fear And Willingness, Between Love And Torture. And With That Realization Came A Rush Of Numbness—what Was The Point Of Hating Valentine For Being A Monster When He Didn’t Even Know He Was One?

The Best Lies Are Based On The Truth, At Least In Part

But-" Maia, Still Looking At Alec And Magnus, Broke Off And Rasied Her Eyebrows. Simon Turned To See What She Was Looking At - And Stared. Alec Had His Arms Around Magnus And Was Kissing Him Full On The Mouth. Magnus, Who Appeared To Be In A State Of Shock, Stood Frozen. Several Groups Of People - Shadowhunters And Downworlders Alike - Were Staring And Whispering. Glancing To The Side, Simon Saw The Lightwoods, Their Eyes Widen, Gaping At The Display. Maryse Had Her Hand Over Her Mouth. Maia Looked Perplexed. "wait A Second," She Said. "do We All Have To Do That, Too?

She Threw The Door Open. The Room Seemed To Be A Sort Of Library, The Walls Lined With Books. It Was Brightly Lit, Light Streaming Through A Tall Picture Window. In The Middle Of The Room Stood Jace. He Wasn't Alone, Though-not By A Long Shot. There Was A Dark-haired Girl With Him, A Girl Clary Had Never Seen Before, And The Two Of Them Were Locked Together In A Passionate Embrace

Mundane Humans Create Distinctions Between Themselves, Distinctions That Seem Ridiculous To Any Shadowhunter. Their Distinctions Are Based On Race, Religion, National Identity, Any Of A Dozen Minor And Irrelevant Markers. ~ Valentine