“Ohh, how clever," Aden said and clapped. "A death threat. You know what's funny? That's not even my first of the day.”

“It's funny how someone's perception of you can be formed without you even knowing it.”

“My heart applauds inside my ears, first like a roaring crowd, then slows and slows until it's a solitary person, clapping with unbridled sarcasm.
Clap. Clap.
Clap.”

“The funny thing about mundies is how obsessed with magic they are for a bunch of people who don't even know what the word means.”

“The corner of his mouth quirked up suddenly.
“What?” Clary demanded. “Is something funny?”
“ ‘Flying death turtle’?” he said. “Only you.”

“You didn't," John said, stepping from the shadows as he clapped for me, "even hit your head this time.”

“Everyone knows that debugging is twice as hard as writing a program in the first place. So if you're as clever as you can be when you write it, how will you ever debug it?”

“I realized it for the first time in my life: there is nothing but mystery in the world, how it hides behind the fabric of our poor, browbeat days, shining brightly, and we don't even know it.”

“Practice is funny that way. For days and days, you make out only the fragments of what to do. And then one day you've got the thing whole. Conscious learning becomes unconscious knowledge, and you cannot say precisely how.”

“Oh, here’s a clever one. Do you remember this question from the first test? It reads, ‘What’s wrong with this statement?’ And do you know what Constance wrote in reply? She wrote, ‘What’s wrong with you?”