“Why the hell would I bring?" she exclaimed. All her anger turned at his presumption. It was a sign of her agitation that she'd sworn.
"Because," he said, face calm, "I can teach you how to stake a Strigoi."
"THE HELL YOU CAN," I said aloud to no one.”

“You guessed? You must have been pretty sure, considering you could have killed me."
"I was ninety percent sure."
"I see," Clary said.
There must have been something in her voice, because he turned to look at her. Her hand cracked across his face, a slap that rocked him back on his heels. He put his hand to his cheek, more in surprise than pain. "What the hell was that for?”

“He was a boy, she was girl. Can I make it any more obvious? He was a punk; she did ballet. What more can I say? He wanted her, she'd never tell secretly she wanted him as well. All of her friends stuck up their nose, they had a problem with his baggy clothes. He was a skater boy. She said: 'see you later, boy'. He wasn't good enough for her. She had a pretty face, but her head was up in space. She needed to come back down to Earth!”

“I don't forgive him," I said.
"Hell, no, you don't. And why should you? So he can feel better? Get on with his life? And what's he done to help you get on with yours?”

“How was I supposed to know?
She was slowly letting go?
If I was puttin her through her hell,
Hell I couldn't tell.She could've given me a sign,
Could've opened up my eyes.
How was I supposed to see?
She never cried in front of me.”

“The woman said something to Roman. He stopped, turned to her, and shook his staff.
She crossed her arms. I couldn't see her face, but I read the body language well enough.”

“I bound her to me in all soft ways,
I bound her to me in a net of days,
Yet now she has gone in silence and said no word.
How can we face these dazzling things, I ask you?
There is no use: we cry: and are not heard.”

“Man, you cannot be real," the human said softly.
"Why not?"
"You just can't."
She laughed a little. "Well, I am." He cleared his throat again. Offered her a lopsided grin.
"Mind if I ask you to prove it?"
"How?"
"Can I touch your hair?”

“Who are you?" because even now, she couldn't let her questions go. "What are you?"
That face that wasn't a face smiled. It was the most terrible thing she'd ever see, ever. "Magnus" he said. "I'm the end.”

“Shanne said, “You are quiet; are you sad?”
“In a way. Do you know why?”
She put her hand across his mouth. “Never speak of it. What must be, will be. What can never be—can never be.”
Ghyl turned to look at her, trying to divine every last scintilla of her meaning.
“But,” she added in a soft voice, “what can be—can be.””