Cassandra Clare: Likeness (page 3)

“You had to know a person well to make them laugh like that.”

“But maybe you never really had someone, she thought now. Maybe, no matter how much you loved them, they could slip through your fingers like water, and there was nothing you could do about it.”

“Isabelle and Sebastian? Hardly. Sebastian’s a nice guy – Isabelle only likes dating thoroughly inappropriate boys our parents will hate. Mundanes, Downworlders, petty crooks…”
“Thanks,” Simon said. “I’m glad to be classed with the criminal element.”

“He'd felt like a jack-o-lantern for the past few days, as if his guts had been yanked out with a fork and dumped in a heap while a grinning smile stayed plastered on his face.”

“Love potions? For Will Herondale? T’aint my way to turn down payment, but any man who looks like you has got no need of love potions, and that’s a fact.”

“It's so dark," she said lamely.

"You want me to hold your hand?"

Clary put both her hands behind her back like a small child.

"Don't talk down to me."

"Well, I could hardly talk up to you. You're too short.”

“If it's the lack of forbidden you're worried about. You could still forbid me to do things."
"What kind of things?"
She felt him smile against her mouth. "Things like this.”

“He leaned against the door frame, ignoring the kick of adrenaline the sight of her produced. He wondered why, not for the first time. Isabelle used her beauty like she used her whip, but Clary didn't know she was beautiful at all. Maybe that was why.”

“I don’t know why I ever helped you.”
“Because you like broken things.”

“Jace likes to pretend that everyone isn’t talking about him, even when he knows they are.”

“Look at him. The face of a bad angel and eyes like the night sky in Hell. He's very pretty, and vampires like that. I can't say I mind either.”

“Alec muttered a retort into his coffee. It rhymed with something that sounded a lot more like "ducking glass mole.”

“You don't believe me?" Jace asked. "Fine. Go ahead. Kiss me right now."
Alec stared at him in horror.
"Exactly. Despite my staggering good lucks, you actually don't like me that way.”

“One does no question miracles, or complain that they are no constructed perfectly to one's liking.”

“Here's a hot tip: Most girls don't like being stalked.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell like Magnus.”

“Looks like a bite mark. What have you been doing all day, anyway?"
"Nothing. I went walking in the park. Tried to clear my head."
"And ran into a vampire?"
"What? No! I fell."
"On your neck?”

“Wait." Clary was suddenly nervous. "The melted metal-it could be, like, toxic or something."
Maia snorted. "I'm from New Jersey. I born in toxic sludge.”

“I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet."
At that he smiled. "How would you know what feet taste like?"
"I just know.”