“Isabelle with her whip and boots and knives would chop anyone who tried to pen her up in a tower into pieces, build a bridge out of the remains, and walk carelessly to freedom, her hair looking fabulous the entire time.”

“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.”

“My sister, with her ratty red-highlighted hair and her linen pajamas and her combat boots—how could she possibly worry about being possessed by a goddess? What goddess would want her, except the goddess of chewing gum?”

“Isabelle," she said, lightening her tone with an obvious effort, "your loyalty to your friend is understandable --"
"He's not my friend." Isabelle looked over at Jace, who was staring at her in a sort of daze. "He's my brother.”

“Okay. I've got a good one." Simon stroked Isabelle's hair feeling her lashes flutter against his neck as she closed her eyes. "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.”

“The moment I saw her, a part of me walked out of my body and wrapped itself around her. And there it still remains.”

“What's very important from my point of view is that there is one web … Anyone that tries to chop it into two will find that their piece looks very boring.”

“It was her habit to build up laughter out of inadequate materials.”

“Jace told me once you’d walk all over my heart in high-heeled boots, and it hasn’t stopped me.
Isabelle gave a little gasp of startled laughter. “He said that? And you stuck around?”
He leaned in toward her … “I would consider it an honor.”

“‎When she looked up at him, it was suddenly easy for her to imagine that her fears were pointless. That he would love her no matter what she told him, and that he was the kind of man who loved her already and would love her forever.”