You Said I Am A Good Man,"

I Didn't Get This Dressed Up To Watch You Mess Around In The Gutter With A Bunch Of Motorcycles." "they Are Pretty To Look At," Said Jace. "you Have To Admit That." "so Am I," Said Isabelle.

How Are You Feeling?" "like Someone Massaged Me With A Cheese Grater." -clary & Simon, Pg.297-

Their Beauty Had Always Seemed To Him Like The Beauty Of Pressed Flowers-lovely, But Dead.

This Was A Voice That Drew Out Memories Stretched Thin By Years Of Recollection, Like Paper Unfolded And Refolded Too Many Times. A Voice That Brought Back, Like A Wave, The Memory Of Another Time On This Bridge, A Night So Long Ago, Everything Black And Silver And The River Rushing Away Under Her Feet.

In Will's Experience, When Someone Who Ought To Be Afraid Wasn't, The Reason Was Rarely Bravery. Usually It Meant That They Knew Something You Didn't.